Broken Threads
by fvhardy
Summary: A ghost from Fenton’s past returns to haunt him just as Frank learns some bitter lessons about life. Will the ensuing chaos destroy the Hardy family?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Fenton Hardy! What on earth do you think you're doing!"

The shrill voice of Gertrude Hardy cut through the silence of the study, and Fenton grimaced as he looked up from the computer.

"Playing Solitaire?" He smiled weakly at her.

Gertrude glared at him. "Of course you are, and I'm the Queen of Sheba! Switch off that computer _now_, Fenton."

"I'm just having a quick read of some papers," he said quickly. "Twenty minutes and I'll be off the computer, I promise."

"You're not even supposed to be on that thing!" she snapped irritably. "You're _supposed_ to be lying down resting! You know what the doctor said…"

"Give me twenty minutes and I'll be the world's most perfect patient!" Fenton begged, glancing back at the computer screen.

"I don't think so," said Gertrude sniffily. "Computer. Off. Now."

"For heaven's sake, Gertrude, I'm not a child!" said Fenton, his temper rising. "Twenty minutes on the computer isn't going to kill me."

"Would you like me to get Laura in here so you can finish explaining that line of reasoning to _her_?" asked Gertrude, her eyes glinting dangerously.

Fenton growled in frustration and started to shut down the computer.

Almost a month earlier, he had been shot by a criminal he was trying to apprehend and the bullet had nearly killed him. He had to be revived twice during surgery and had spent two weeks in the Intensive Care Unit. The Doctors had only released him from hospital just two days previously with strict instructions to rest.

Laura and Gertrude had taken those words as Law, and conspired to ensure that the most activity he undertook was when he changed positions in bed.

It was driving Fenton insane.

He could understand their concern, even if he didn't like it, but their incessant hovering was driving the already housebound detective stir-crazy. Not to mention what it was probably doing to his blood pressure.

_Yeah, right. Try explaining that to Laura and Gertrude._

Fenton smiled wryly to himself as he shuffled out of the study and down the hall to the kitchen. He could feel Gertrude's eyes boring into his back the whole way.

_Fenton Hardy, ace detective - can't even handle two women by himself!_

Of course, these two particular woman could put even a US Marine to shame on a good day.

"Hi, honey," he greeted his wife as he entered the kitchen.

"Fenton!" Laura chided softly. "You're supposed to be resting!"

"Please, Laura, anymore rest and I'll have to be peeled off that bed," said Fenton desperately.

Laura gave a small laugh. "Alright then. Why don't you sit down and I'll make you some tea?"

Fenton moved over to the table and sat down. Through the kitchen window he glimpsed a small, blond figure forlornly kicking a football around the backyard.

"Where's Frank?" he asked.

"At a friend's house, working on a school project," said Laura tightly.

Fenton could hear the worry in her voice and sighed.

Frank had started Junior High in September and the change in him had been startling. Seemingly overnight, he had turned from a quiet and relaxed child into a moody, stubborn teenager. Things had gotten worse in November when, just days after Frank had turned thirteen, Fenton's father had suffered a heart attack and died. Frank had been very close to his grandfather and his death had hit Frank hard. He became surly and temperamental, something previously unheard of for Frank.

Fenton knew that much of it was the loss of his grandfather and the upheaval of turning thirteen and starting a new school, and so he had been very patient with Frank. His calm attitude to Frank's mood swings had seemed to work, and over Christmas Frank's mood had greatly improved. Then shortly after New Year, Fenton had been shot and Frank had completely retreated into himself. Often, he took off without telling his parents where he was going and it was driving Laura mad with worry. Fenton had tried to reassure her that all children went through difficult phases as teenagers, but his words had absolutely no effect. Laura had argued that it was so unlike Frank to behave like this that there must be something else wrong.

He glanced at his wife and felt a stab of guilt when he saw her strained face. Between Fenton's shooting and Frank's behaviour, the past few weeks had been very tough on her. Fenton silently promised to be a better patient and cause her as little worry as possible.

Laura placed a steaming mug of tea and a plate of biscuits on the table in front of Fenton, before sitting down opposite him with a cup for herself.

"How are you feeling, really?" she asked softly.

"Much better," he answered, as he reached out and took Laura's hand. "No, really," he added as she raised her eyebrows sceptically. "I'm okay. But what about you? You look tired."

"I'm fine," she smiled at her husband. "When you're back on your feet you can take your turn to spoil me!"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't do nearly as good a job as Gertrude," Fenton laughed.

As if on cue, they heard the sound of the vacuum cleaner being switched on upstairs followed by vigorous pounding.

"She's been a big help," Laura admitted. "And Joe loves having her around…"

Laura's voice trailed off and Fenton guessed what was bothering her. "But not Frank, right?" he finished softly.

Laura looked at him sadly. "I just wish he'd tell us what's wrong. Frank used to confide in me about everything."

"There might not be anything wrong," said Fenton, trying to reassure her. "Frank's a teenager now, and hasn't Gertrude being telling us for years how difficult teenagers are?"

Laura smiled weakly. "Maybe. I just never thought it would apply to Frank, he's always been so mature."

"He's still just a kid," Fenton reminded her.

"I know. I guess I just wasn't prepared to see Frank behave like this. Joe maybe, but not Frank."

At the mention of his youngest, Fenton glanced out the window at the small figure in the back garden. He felt another stab, but this time it was one of pity.

Frank's bad moods extended to Joe as well, and he was giving his younger brother a distinctly wide berth. He hadn't said anything, but Fenton knew how much his older brother's behaviour was upsetting Joe.

"I'm sure it will all work out," Fenton told his wife soothingly.

But deep down, Fenton wasn't so sure, and he wished that whatever was bothering Frank, he would confide in his parents.

**XXX**

Frank kicked the empty coke can out of his way as he trudged home through the snow, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He knew his mother would have picked him up, but then he would have had to endure her concerned questions and attempts at conversation. And Frank really didn't feel like making conversation.

The dark-haired teenager scowled to himself and his brown eyes narrowed. He wished everyone would stop asking him if he was okay and if he needed to talk. What he needed was to be left alone.

Frank turned onto Elm Street and the house on the corner of Elm and High came into view. Unconsciously he slowed his pace. He was over an hour late and he knew there would be a lecture once he got in.

Frank hadn't meant to be late. He was at a friend's house and was supposed to be working on a school project. His friend Paul, however, had other ideas.

Paul Knox was fourteen and a year older than Frank. He was repeating his first year of Junior High, but Frank didn't know why he'd been kept back; Paul never talked about it. What Frank did know was that Paul was a lot of fun.

They hadn't even started their school project that day. Paul's dad had bought him a new computer game and Paul wanted to try it out. When Frank had arrived at Paul's house that afternoon, Paul's dad was working and his older brother was out. As Paul's mother was dead there was no one to tell them what to do, and so the two teenagers had spent the afternoon indulging in car chases and car crashes.

It was the most fun Frank had had in weeks.

Frank sighed. He knew his parents wouldn't like it if they knew who he was hanging out with. Paul was considered a trouble-maker by their teachers. He was loud in class, he didn't do his homework and he got involved in at least one fight a week. What the teachers didn't know was that those fights were usually because Paul was defending someone.

That was how Frank had first met Paul. One day, some of the other kids in his class had been giving Frank a hard time. Apparently, the brains that had been the envy of the other kids when Frank was in Grade School, now placed him firmly in the 'geek' category.

Paul hadn't been long making them shut up.

After that, Frank and Paul had become friends and nobody bothered Frank again. Nobody liked to mess with Paul and his gang.

Frank grinned as he walked up the path to the front porch. He'd had many friends in Grade School, but he had never been one of the 'popular' crowd. Now, suddenly, Frank found himself being considered one of the coolest kids in the year because he was part of Paul's gang. It was a heady feeling.

Frank opened the front door and stepped in out of the cold. He was just removing his coat when he heard his mother call from the kitchen, "Frank? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he called back.

"Can you come in here, please?"

Frank sighed as he headed for the kitchen. He hadn't missed the irritation in his mother's voice.

He pushed open the door and entered the kitchen. His mother and his Aunt Gertrude were clearing away the remains of dinner.

"You're late," said his mother in annoyance, folding her arms.

"Yeah, sorry," Frank mumbled. "I lost track of time."

"And you couldn't have called to say you'd be late?" Gertrude asked.

"I forgot," said Frank.

"You forgot?" Gertrude repeated. "You need to learn to be more considerate, young man. Aside from the fact that your dinner is ruined, didn't it occur to you that we might be worried?"

"I said I was sorry," said Frank, annoyed.

Gertrude opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut at a warning look from Laura.

"Frank, I can understand that you lost track of time trying to get the project finished," said Laura. "But the rule in this house is you call if you're going to be late."

Frank nodded and his mother sighed. "Okay, Frank. I'll let it go for now, but don't let it happen again."

"I won't."

"What are you going to eat?" his mother asked.

"I'm not really hungry. I ate something earlier," said Frank.

Laura suppressed a sigh. "Fine. But if you get hungry later, let me know and I'll make you a sandwich or something."

"Okay. Thanks, Mom," said Frank and turned to go.

"Where are you going?" Laura asked.

"My room. I still have some homework to do."

Laura bit her lip as Frank left the kitchen. Gertrude gave her arm a comforting squeeze but wisely stayed quiet. Lectures on teenagers' mood swings weren't going to make Laura feel any better right now.

**XXX**

Once upstairs, Frank closed his door and flopped onto his bed. He had lied about having homework in order to escape to his room.

As he stared up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, Frank felt surprised at how easy it had been to escape his mother's questions tonight. Usually his mother had a list of questions as long as her arm, meaning Frank didn't escape until he had answered at least half. This evening, however, her questions had been somewhat jaded.

_She looked tired_, Frank realised with a twinge of guilt and frowned to himself. He hadn't meant to worry his mother, or upset her by being short with her, he just felt smothered by her concern.

_Hers and everyone else's_.

Frank sighed inwardly. He was tired of everyone asking him if he was okay, and he was utterly sick of the fact that everyone was whispering about his 'strange' behaviour. Just because he had started to behave like every other kid in his class, his parents were questioning his mental state. Frank scowled. He really resented the fact that everyone expected him to be perfect. After all, he was only human and he had faults just like everyone else.

And lately, one of those faults was anger. Frank seemed to be constantly angry lately, and he was finding it difficult not to lash out. At least Paul didn't expect him to be a model of perfection. Frank could be as moody and surly as he liked, and Paul didn't care. It was part of the reason he liked Paul's company so much.

But he still couldn't talk to Paul.

Frank felt a familiar lump rise in his throat as he thought of who he'd really like to talk to.

_Gramps._

Abruptly he got up off the bed and stalked over to his computer, whacking it on. He wasn't ready to think about his grandfather yet.

Throwing himself into the chair in front of the computer, Frank stared irritably at the screen. He needed to distract himself.

A soft knock at the door broke into his aggravated musings. Muttering, Frank strode over to the door and pulled it open.

It was Joe. Frank stared down at the figure of his brother who stared up at him half-apprehensively. Frank had grown several inches in the last few months, and his tall, lanky figure was now in direct contrast with that of his brother. Joe had always been a small child, but now he didn't even reach as far as his brother's shoulder.

"What?" said Frank, more abruptly than he intended.

"Um, can you help me with this?" said Joe timidly, holding up his English book. "Dad's asleep, and Mom and Aunt Gertrude are busy."

"Okay," said Frank gruffly and stood back so Joe could enter the room.

"Thanks," said Joe, almost shyly, as he shuffled into the room.

"So what don't you understand?" asked Frank as he closed the door.

"We have to write a descriptive passage," Joe answered, "but without using the words like or as. And I don't know how to do it."

"Just describe something without using like or as," said Frank impatiently. "It's not that hard."

"But I've tried," protested Joe. "I can't do it."

Frank frowned at his brother. He had a sneaking suspicion that Joe was only pretending to have trouble with his homework to spend time with him.

Joe's blue eyes stared innocently back at him.

"Fine," said Frank. "I'll give you an example." He crossed to his closet and pulled out some of his old school books. Rifling through them, he managed to find his English notebook and opened it to the page he was looking for.

"Read this," he instructed as he thrust the notebook at Joe.

Joe glanced at the short paragraph which read; _I trudged through the still frozen, forest. All I could hear was the sound of soft, clean snow crunching beneath my feet. Everywhere I looked, shades of white and silver glittered in the pale, morning sun. But despite its beauty, the cold still bit me with its hungry teeth and my jaw ached from trying to still my chattering teeth. I walked for quite some time, only stopping to break the frozen puddles and gaze at my reflection in their broken, silver shards._

"That's really nice, Frank," said Joe as he finished reading.

Frank ignored the compliment. "All you have to do is describe something. A football, a tree, _anything_. Use colours and shapes, just don't use like or as."

"Okay," said Joe.

"Is that it?" asked Frank.

"No…." Joe's voice trailed off and he bit his lip.

"_What_, Joe?"

"Do you want to go to the movies Saturday night?" asked Joe tentatively. "We haven't gone in a while."

"I can't, I have plans."

"Oh."

Silence fell and Frank looked expectantly at Joe. "Anything else?"

Joe shook his head and moved to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when he turned to Frank again.

"Frank, what have I done?" he asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"You're mad at me."

"No, I'm not."

"You are!" Joe insisted. "You don't talk to me anymore, and you're always busy whenever I ask you to do something."

"That's because I _am_ busy."

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad!"

"You are."

"Joe," Frank groaned. "We're too old for this. I'm not mad, I just have a lot of stuff to do lately. Can't we just leave it at that?"

Joe sighed and nodded.

"Now, I've got some homework to do, Joe," said Frank.

"Okay," said Joe quietly. "Night, Frank. And thanks for helping."

"You're welcome," said Frank, as Joe opened the door.

Joe turned back to look at his brother, but Frank was sitting at the computer once more. Sadly, Joe closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning, Frank was up and ready for school before the rest of the house had even stirred. He was just finishing breakfast when his mother entered the kitchen.

She stopped and stared in surprise at her eldest son. "Frank! What are you doing up so early?"

"I need to get to school," said Frank. "I've got some stuff to do."

"Okay," said Laura. "Just give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll drop you off."

"It's okay, Mom," said Frank hurriedly, rising from his seat. "I'll take the bus."

"Frank, it's freezing out there," Laura objected. "And you'll be quicker going with me anyway."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Frank insisted. He wanted to get out of the house before Joe was up. The conversation with his brother the night before had left Frank with a vague sense of unease that he didn't understand.

"Frank…" his mother began but he cut her off.

"I'll be fine, Mom. I've got to go."

Before Laura could object again, Frank was heading for the hall. "I'll see you after school, Mom," he called over his shoulder.

"Frank…" Laura tried again but he was gone.

In the hall, Frank put on his coat and grabbed his schoolbag. He was just opening the front door when a voice behind him made him stop.

"Frank?"

Frank turned and saw Joe standing on the second from last step of the stairs. He was sleepy eyed and still in his pyjamas.

"Where are you going?"

"School. See you later," Frank mumbled and was out the door before Joe could respond.

**XXX**

The morning passed slowly for Frank. He felt guilty for his abrupt dismissal of Joe that morning and the night before. Deep down he knew there was some truth in what Joe said and that bothered him. He wasn't mad at Joe, but he was avoiding him. It wasn't deliberate, Frank wasn't even sure why he was doing it.

"FRANK!"

The yell broke into his thoughts as he travelled down the hall to his locker and he was startled when Paul thrust his face into his.

"Man, what is with you?" Paul asked. "I've been calling you all the way from the other end of the hall!"

"Sorry." Frank shrugged. "Zoned out, I guess. What's up?"

"What are you doing later?"

"Homework I suppose, but not much else."

"No, not after school, after _lunch_!" Paul emphasised the last word and Frank stared in confusion at the tall, dark-haired teenager. His expression was unreadable. Paul's eyes were so dark they were almost black, and it made it very difficult to tell what he was thinking.

"I've got Science, Economics and a free period," said Frank. "Why?"

"Not anymore you don't!" Paul grinned. "Ryan and Keith found the coolest thing ever this morning!"

Frank was confused. "What are you talking about?"

Paul grinned again. "I'm saying nothing here. Just make sure you're in the school basement before lunch is over. We're in for a fun afternoon!"

"But we'll miss class," Frank protested. "And we'll probably get into trouble!"

Paul's face fell. "Who cares?" he said dismissively. "Come on, Frank, I didn't think you were square."

"I'm not square!" Frank declared hotly.

"Good," Paul smiled. "See you after lunch!"

"That's not what I…Paul!" Frank called after him but Paul was already moving back up the hall.

"See you later, Frank!" He waved over his shoulder before disappearing into the throng of milling students, leaving Frank staring after him.

"Um, Frank?" said a voice to his left and Frank turned to see a dark-skinned youth standing beside him.

"Hi," Frank replied. "Uh, Tony, right? You're new?"

"Yeah, I'm Tony Prito," smiled the youth. "We have Maths together."

"How do you like Bayport?" asked Frank.

"It's pretty cool, so far," Tony grinned. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me."

"What can I do for you, Tony?"

"Well, I know this might seem a bit cheeky, but I was told that you're the best in our class at Maths."

Frank looked at him, wondering what was coming.

"I was out sick for a few days with that flu that's been going around, and I missed a lot of Maths," Tony explained. "It's a subject I have real trouble with and I was wondering if I could borrow your notes from those days?"

"Sure, no problem," said Frank, flattered, as he pulled open his bag and pulled out some books. "These are my notes, and that's a handout Mrs. Bryant gave us, you can photocopy it and give it back to me."

"Thanks, Frank," said Tony gratefully. "I really appreciate this."

"You know, if you're having trouble with Maths, I'd suggest having a look at this book," said Frank, as he reached into his bag again and pulled out another book. "My Dad gave it to me and it explains things really simply."

Tony gave Frank a huge smile as he took the book. "Thanks a million, Frank. This is great. I'll return them to you tomorrow."

"No problem," Frank answered. "Listen, I've gotta go. I've got some stuff to do before lunch is over and I still haven't eaten. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure," said Tony, as Frank hurried away.

Twenty minutes later, Frank had grabbed a quick lunch and sneaked down to the basement to meet Paul. He knew it was wrong, but curiosity got the better of him.

Frank was intrigued as to what Paul was up to.

"Paul?" he whispered hoarsely in the dim gloom of the basement. "It's me, Frank. Where are you?"

Hearing no response, Frank moved further into the darkening gloom. He hadn't gone far when suddenly someone pounced on him!

Startled, Frank swung out with his fist and it connected with someone's jaw.

"Ouch!" he heard an indignant cry. "Take it easy, Hardy!"

A flashlight was turned on and Frank blinked against the sudden glare. Squinting up, he saw the huge outline of Ryan Aston. Ryan was a long time friend of Paul's. Built like a barn door with blonde hair and brown eyes, Ryan was something of a bully. He was in the year above Frank and Paul; Frank didn't like him much, but tolerated him for Paul's sake.

"You nearly took my eye out!" he growled at Frank.

"Serves you right," said Paul's voice from somewhere to Frank's left. "Jumping him in the dark like that, what else did you expect? Nice right hook by the way," he added to Frank.

Frank grinned. "Thanks."

"Come on," another voice piped up. "Before someone hears us."

"Keith?" said Frank, peering at the figure beside Paul.

Keith chuckled. "Who were you expecting, the tooth fairy?"

Frank laughed. "She'd be a hell of a lot prettier than you, that's for sure!"

Keith laughed good naturedly. He was also in the year above Frank and Paul. Keith was Frank's height, with dark hair and startling blue eyes. His good looks made him something of a favourite with the girls, and the boys often teased him about it. Frank liked Keith; he joked a lot and laughed often, and he wasn't half so touchy as Ryan.

"Let's go!" snapped Ryan in a surly voice moving forward with the flashlight. Frank scowled at his retreating back.

"Ignore him," Paul whispered as he set off after Ryan. "His bark's worse than his bite!"

Frank highly doubted that, but didn't comment as he moved after the others. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," said Keith, and Frank could hear the excitement in his voice.

Frank could feel his own excitement rise. He'd never done anything like this before, and the rebellious feeling was both liberating and terrifying.

Five minutes later, they arrived at the boiler room.

"What are we doing here?" asked Frank looking around.

Paul laughed. "Frank Hardy, you are one of the most impatient people I know!"

"I'm not," said Frank, a little piqued. He prided himself on his patience, it was one of the things his father said made a great investigator.

"Nosey then," said Paul as he began to tug at a large crate with Ryan. "You can just tell your dad's a detective."

Frank didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

"Here," Keith broke in. "Let me help."

Frank watched as the three boys heaved and tugged at the crate. When they were done, his mouth fell open.

"What's that?" asked Frank, shocked, as a small door that reached only to his waist was revealed behind the crate.

"Secret exit from the school," Keith answered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It was built during World War Two. Apparently, the principle was a bit paranoid and was afraid that the school might be bombed, so he had this escape route designed for the kids and teachers."

"How did you find out about it?" asked Frank as he continued to stare in amazement at the door. "I've never heard anything about this before!"

"It's not common knowledge," Keith admitted. "But my brother started work with a construction company a few weeks ago, and he heard something from one of the men whose father was supposed to have helped build it. Ryan and I have been searching for it ever since."

"And we hit the jackpot today!" said Ryan triumphantly. Frank winced. He thought Ryan talked like someone who watched too much TV.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Paul demanded, clearly not listening to the conversation as he dropped to his knees and turned the handle on the door.

The door swung open and they all crouched down and peered into the dark tunnel.

"It's pretty small," said Keith, a little apprehensively.

"So?" said Paul. "Here, Ryan, pass me the torch."

Ryan passed Paul the torch. Switching it on, he aimed the light into the dark recess of the tunnel. "Come on. I'm guessing it'll take us at least twenty minutes to crawl through this tunnel before we come out."

"Wait! We're going _in_ there!" said Frank incredulously.

"Of course we're going in there, what else did you think we were doing?" asked Paul, amused.

"Paul, that tunnel is years old, it could be really unsafe," Frank argued.

"It's not that old! Besides, if it was built as an emergency exit during the second world war, then it was probably built to be really secure. Relax, Frank, we'll be fine."

"I don't know…" Frank was unsure. His gut was telling him that this was a really bad idea.

Paul shrugged. "Suit yourself."

With that, he crawled through the door and into the dark tunnel. Several seconds later, Ryan followed suit.

"You coming?" Keith asked Frank.

Frank didn't answer. He stared at the tunnel feeling torn. He didn't want to go into that cramped little tunnel, but he also really wanted to fit in with the gang.

"Frank?" Keith prodded.

Frank made a split second decision. "I'm coming."

"Cool." Keith smiled. "You go ahead of me, I'm going to pull the door shut behind me."

Frank took a deep breath and plunged into the inky black of the tunnel. He could vaguely see the flicker of Paul's torch up ahead, and tried to control his breathing.

_It's fine. Twenty minutes and we're out._

As he crawled along the dirty, cramped passageway, he heard Keith enter the tunnel and close the door.

To Frank, it sounded as though a cell door had slammed behind him.

**XXX**

Joe Hardy frowned to himself as he trudged through the snow. The heating had broken down at school during lunch, and so all the kids had been let home early. Normally this was something that Joe would have been delighted about, but today it bothered him.

At school, Joe was busy and had plenty of distractions to stop him from thinking about Frank. He didn't know what was going on with his older brother, but he knew one thing for sure; Frank was afraid.

Joe just didn't know what he was afraid of.

Joe sighed as he jerked his schoolbag higher on his shoulder. His bag was extra heavy because he had books for Biff Hooper in it. Biff was his best friend, and out sick with the flu at the moment. Joe was bringing him his homework so he wouldn't fall behind.

As he passed the park, Joe thought he glimpsed movement in the bushes up ahead and stopped. He backed up a little and ducked behind the nearest tree. Anything that was hiding in bushes was up to no good.

Joe peered around the tree and his mouth dropped open in shock as a tall, dark-haired boy emerged from the bushes. He was closely followed by another, much larger, boy.

Joe frowned and ducked back behind the tree. He recognised that bigger boy. It was Ryan Aston. Ryan was a notorious bully; Joe had even had a run in with him once. It was two years ago, just before Ryan had finished Grade School. He had been humiliated by a smart-mouthed comment of Joe's, but hadn't dared touch him because of Frank. Everyone knew that you didn't touch Frank Hardy's brother. Then one day, when Frank was out sick, Ryan had cornered Joe in the playground. It was only the sudden appearance of a teacher that had saved Joe from a beating. Joe had never told Frank about it because he didn't want him to feel guilty.

No, Joe decided, he most definitely did not want to run into Ryan now, and silently told himself that the best idea was to remain hidden.

Joe peered out from behind the tree again. The two boys had now been joined by two other boys. All were much bigger than Joe.

_Great! _he thought. _Reinforcements!_

Just then, one of the second two boys turned his face in Joe's direction and Joe felt a shock of recognition.

_Frank!_

Forgetting his plan to stay hidden, Joe stepped out and yelled. "FRANK!"

Frank looked over and dropped his schoolbag in shock. "Joe! What are you doing here?"

Joe marched over to his brother. "The heating broke down at school so we were let home early. What are _you_ doing here?"

"We got off early too," Frank mumbled, avoiding his brother's eyes.

"And so you decided to use the free time to hide in bushes?" Joe challenged.

Frank heard the others snicker behind him and felt his face burn in embarrassment. "You can talk! You were behind that tree spying on people! What a sneaky thing to do!"

"I wasn't sneaking!" Joe yelled in anger. "Which is more than I can say for you! You're cutting school, aren't you?"

"So! What are you going to do? Tell Mom and Dad?"

"He won't if he knows what's good for him!" Ryan sneered as he stepped up beside Frank.

"Don't you threaten me!" Joe said furiously as he flung his schoolbag on the ground, his hot temper getting the better of him. He was too angry to feel fear. Besides, he knew Frank would never let anyone hurt him; no matter how mad he was at Joe.

Sure enough, as Ryan growled and stepped towards Joe, Frank's arm shot out and stopped him. "Leave him alone!"

"Or you'll what?" Ryan snapped at Frank.

"Ryan!" said the tall, dark-haired boy in warning, as he placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan stepped back but glared murderously at Joe and Frank.

"Frank, what's wrong with you?" demanded Joe. "Only idiots cut school!"

"We're not idiots," said the dark-haired boy angrily, his dark eyes flashing.

Joe ignored him and watched his brother carefully. Frank seemed to be undergoing some sort of internal struggle.

"We need to get out of here," said the other dark-haired boy. "Anyone could see us here."

"Keith has a point," said Ryan. "Paul, let's go!"

"Okay. Are you coming, Frank?" said Paul, stepping up beside Frank.

Frank looked in confusion between Paul's expressionless face and his brother's angry one. Paul sighed. "Fine, suit yourself. Never thought you'd prefer a kid's company to ours though."

"I'm not a kid! I'm going to be twelve in April!" Joe shot back before he could stop himself.

"Whatever," said Paul dismissively, as he shrugged. "Come on, guys."

As he started to walk away, Frank called after him. "Paul, wait!"

Joe stared at his brother. "You're not going with him, are you?"

"So what if I am?" said Frank defensively.

"Frank, don't," Joe pleaded, his voice low and urgent. His gut told him that these guys were trouble and that they would get Frank in trouble.

"Why not?" Frank hissed.

"Because this isn't like you!"

The other three boys howled with laughter.

"Awww, listen to the miniature shrink," Ryan taunted. "Should have known Mr. Goodie-Goodie Hardy wouldn't be taking any chances."

The three boys walked away, still laughing.

Frank's embarrassment grew. "Joe, shut up! You have no idea what I'm like."

Joe's face flushed in anger. "Fine!" he yelled. "But if you go with them, I'll tell Mom and Dad! This is a stupid thing to do and you know it!"

Frank exploded. "Why? Because I'm supposed to be the good boy and never get in trouble? I'm sick of it, Joe, and I'm sick of you! Why do you have to be such a drag? I wish I didn't have a brother!"

Snatching up his schoolbag, Frank whirled around and hurried after the others, leaving Joe staring after him in shocked silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Frank caught up with the other boys quickly.

Paul turned and grinned at him. "Hey, Frank! Looks like you're really one of the gang after all!"

Frank tried to act casual, despite his excitement at Paul's words. "So, where are we going?"

"My house," said Ryan shortly. "My parents are away for the day."

As the boys set off for Ryan's house, Frank tried not to think about Joe. He was already starting to feel guilty about what he had said to his brother, but it had just slipped out. Frank didn't know where his anger was coming from lately.

To take his mind off Joe, Frank took a good look at his surroundings. He had never been to Ryan's house before and noted it was in one of the rougher areas of town, just like Paul's. The houses here were rundown and uncared for; some were even boarded up and abandoned.

They were just about to turn a corner when a voice suddenly called behind them.

"Ryan? Is that you?"

The boys spun around and saw an elderly woman with grey hair hobbling towards them, leaning heavily on a stick as she did so.

"Mrs. Deagan!" said Ryan, his face paling. "Um, how are you?"

"Never you mind how I am!" Mrs. Deagan snapped. "Why aren't you in school, young man?"

"Er…well…ahem," Ryan stuttered.

"The heating was broken so we were sent home early," Paul interjected smoothly, using Joe's truth as his lie.

"That's funny," said the old woman sharply. "Because I just met Anne-Marie Bryant, one of your teachers, heading back to school for her final class!"

The four boys froze.

"Disgraceful behaviour, skipping school like this," said Mrs. Deagan, as she peered intently at each boy in turn.

Frank felt himself shiver. The elderly woman might look frail, but her gaze was one of pure steel.

"Just you wait until your parents hear," said Mrs. Deagan as her gaze landed on Ryan. "Your father won't be pleased."

Ryan paled even further. "Mrs. Deagan, please! You can't tell my dad! I'll be in so much trouble!"

"You should have thought of that before you skipped school!" she snapped. "Young people today, you act without thinking of the consequences!"

_Sure do_, thought Frank, wincing as he remembered his words to Joe.

"Look, we'll go back to school," said Ryan, his voice agitated. "Just please don't tell my dad!"

Frank was surprised. Ryan was acting as though it would be the end of the world if he were grounded.

"Oh, you'll go back to school alright, but I'm still telling your father," said Mrs. Deagan as she wagged her finger at Ryan. "Start letting the youth of today off with everything and you'll turn them into tomorrow's criminals."

Suddenly, Ryan grabbed the old woman and shook her. "Don't you dare tell my dad or you'll be sorry!"

"Ryan!" said Paul in alarm, while Frank and Keith watched in rigid shock. "Take it easy!"

"Unhand me, you young thug!" shouted the woman fiercely, as she raised her stick and hit him.

Ryan snapped. With a roar of temper, he raised his fist and hit the old woman hard in the face.

Frank felt nausea rise in his throat as he heard something crack and Mrs. Deagan's nose began to bleed. "Ryan! Stop it!" he yelled.

"Don't ever hit me again!" Ryan screamed as he flung the old woman back against the wall.

The bang as her head hit the wall echoed down the silent street, and the four teenagers watched in agonized horror as she slumped to the ground.

"Ryan, what have you done?" whispered Paul.

Ryan started to shake as he stared at the woman on the ground. "Oh God, Oh God! I hit her, I've killed her! Paul, I've killed her! What am I going to do?"

Frank knelt beside the old woman and tried not to vomit at the display of violence he had just witnessed. His shaking hand sought out the elderly lady's wrist, and he groped frantically for a pulse. A very faint throb told him the old woman was still alive.

"She's alive," said Frank, his voice sounding strange in his ears. "We need to call an ambulance."

"No! We need to get out of here," said Paul urgently. "We can call an ambulance when we do."

"What?" said Frank in disbelief, as he twisted up to look at Paul. "You've got to be kidding! Look at her, we can't leave her alone!"

"We have to!" Paul hissed. "We'll all be in serious trouble if we're caught here, not to talk of the trouble Ryan will be in!"

Frank glanced at Ryan who was whimpering.

"But…he _did_ hit her," Frank pointed out quietly.

"It was an accident!" Ryan's head shot up as he snapped at Frank. "I didn't mean it!"

Frank wisely stayed quiet.

"Get up, Frank!" said Paul, roughly pulling Frank to his feet.

"You go," Frank said fiercely, "but I'm staying with her!"

"_Now_ you decide to grow a back bone?" snapped Paul in an uncharacteristic display of venomous temper. "Really not the time, Frank."

Suddenly, a dog started to bark loudly from just around the corner and the boys heard a voice in the distance shouting, "Max! Heel! Come back here!"

"Someone's coming! Run!" said Keith, his voice weak with shock.

Without saying a word, Ryan and Paul seized Frank's arms and forced him to run. Frank struggled, but the other boys were bigger and stronger than he was, and he was forced to flee the scene.

He managed one last look over his shoulder as they dragged him down the street.

**XXX**

It was nearly seven and darkness had fallen when Frank finally made his way home. He felt sick and exhausted.

After they had run from the scene, the boys had made for Paul's house because it was the closest to them. Frank had been violently ill once they got there.

"Frank," Paul had said urgently. "You can't tell anyone about this! Ryan's father will kill him!"

Frank had tried to argue but Paul wouldn't hear any of it. "I mean it, Frank. He'll kill him! Ryan's dad beats him! He broke his arm before and he'll kill him over something like this!"

"Why don't social services do something?" Frank demanded, and Paul shrugged.

"They don't care. Frank, do you see why you have to stay quiet?"

"Frank, please," Ryan had added. "I didn't mean to hurt her, I just lost my temper. If Dad finds out, I'm dead! Please!"

Ryan had looked so terrified that Frank had agreed.

After that, they had all sat in silence watching TV but not really seeing it. Paul insisted they all wait for a few hours before heading home. "If anyone asks, we came straight here after school," he had warned them.

Frank shuddered. His shocked body could feel the chill of the evening more strongly than usual.

Turning into the driveway, Frank froze in horror.

A patrol car was parked there.

He briefly thought of running away but brushed the thought off quickly. _You did enough running today_, he told himself viciously.

Steeling himself, Frank pushed open the front door and walked into the living room. Chief Collig and Con Riley stood there with his parents and his aunt.

Frank took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad? I…"

His words were lost in his mother's ensuing shriek. "FRANK! Oh, Frank, thank God! Are you okay?" His mother crossed the room in a flash and threw herself on him, nearly knocking the teenager.

"Easy, Laura," Fenton cautioned as he moved behind his wife. "Frank, are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

Frank was utterly bewildered. "What's going on?"

As Laura released him, Fenton scrutinised his son. "The police received a report of a kidnapping today. When they got to the scene, they found your schoolbag there."

"But my schoolbag's right here," said Frank as he swung his bag off his back and onto the nearest table.

Chief Collig and Con Riley were beside him in a flash. "Are you sure that's yours?" asked Chief Collig.

"Of course I'm sure!" said Frank indignantly.

"Frank, some of the books in that bag had your name on them," Con told him.

"I lent some books to Tony Prito today," said Frank. "Oh no…"

"Prito? Isn't that the new family in town?" questioned Chief Collig and Frank nodded.

"I'd better call them," said Con. "See if Tony is there."

"Wait!" Fenton ordered and everyone looked at him. His face was pale. "Frank, check your bag."

"Dad…"

"_Frank_, check it!" his father ordered.

Muttering, Frank opened his bag and pulled out a book. Glancing at the book, Frank felt his stomach lurch.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"What? What is it?" Laura demanded.

Mute, Frank opened the front cover and held it up. Right on the first page, plain for everyone to see, was the name, JOE HARDY.

**XXX**

"Stupid Frank!" Joe muttered to himself as he stalked away in the opposite direction of where his brother had gone. He was both hurt and furious at Frank's words.

_What's his problem anyway?_

Joe was incensed. He knew that Frank was scared of something, he just couldn't understand why he was the only one who could see it. Certainly, Frank and his parents couldn't.

There and then, Joe decided to give Biff his books and go straight home and confront Frank. He wouldn't tell his parents about today, he'd have it out with Frank. Whirling to head back in the direction of Biff's house, Joe stopped dead at the sight behind him.

A broad shouldered man had been sneaking up behind him, arms out, ready to pounce on Joe. He seemed shocked at Joe's sudden about-face.

Joe took advantage of that surprise.

Quickly, he whirled his schoolbag at the man and it hit him squarely in the stomach. "Ooof" the man grunted as Joe turned and ran.

"Help!" he yelled.

The man took off after him. He flung himself at Joe's legs in a flying tackle, bringing the boy crashing to the ground. As Joe lay there winded, the man climbed on top of him and used his weight to pin the boy down.

"Get off me!" Joe gasped as he struggled furiously. The man pushed him harder into the ground and Joe choked.

_He couldn't breathe!_

Joe tried to buck the man off, but he was twice the size of the small boy and only pressed down harder. His lungs screaming for air, the boy kicked his leg back and caught the man in the shin.

The man's grip lessened somewhat as he cried out in pain, and Joe struggled desperately to get out from beneath him.

"Oh no you don't," the man growled in his ear and before Joe knew what was happening, the man had seized his hair and slammed his head into the ground.

Joe's world turned red. As he lay there stunned, he felt the man release his arms.

_Run! Move! _Joe's mind yelled at him but his body refused to obey.

Something was shoved in his face and a sweet smell overwhelmed him. The hazy red darkened to black, and Joe Hardy felt the world close in around him.

_**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I know Frank seems a tad OOC thus far, but trust me, he soon returns to the Frank we all know and love. I made him a troubled teenager in this because I don't think even Frank is immune to the curse of the moody teenager, and I always felt that Frank must have got a severe shock or scare at some stage in his teenage years to make him so mature and responsible at 18! Hence the plot of the story..._

**Mocha Addict: **You're going to get even more spoiled as the story goes on! ;-)

**astalder27:** I think you'll find that Frank learns a lesson the hard way about taking his brother for granted.

**Pen and Paper71:** Thank you, I will!

**The Silent Rumble:** No, Frank isn't getting brainwashed; he's just experiencing the painful moodswings that come with turning 13 (and a whole lot else besides that). Give him a chance, he'll come out the stronger and better for it.

**Augustus:** I know things seem flipped around at the moment, but try and remember, Frank is 13 and bound to be feeling somewhat rebellious. Joe hasn't yet entered the teenage phase and so doesn't get the moodswings; therefore he becomes the 'serious' one for a time in order to combat Frank's behaviour. Also, Joe is only 11 and hasn't finished growing yet; I just have him as smaller than Frank for the purpose of this story and a later one. Don't worry, he'll catch up! ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Hardys, Chief Collig and Con Riley stared in shock at Frank, their relief at finding him safe and well slowly dissipating as the realisation that it was Joe who was missing sank in.

"How could you not know he was missing?" Frank yelled at his parents, his emotions going into over-drive as guilt kicked in.

"He…he was supposed to be at Biff's," Laura answered tremulously. "You were the one who was supposed to be home and we thought…we thought…" Laura's words dissolved into sobs and her husband put his arms around her.

Frank wanted to keep yelling. He wanted to scream at them, to hit someone, but seeing his mother so upset he knew he couldn't. Slowly, Frank swallowed his anger.

"What happened?" he demanded in a hard voice.

Con winced at the harsh tones in the teenager's voice. "We don't know yet, Frank. We're working on…"

"What _do_ you know?" asked Frank, refusing to be put off.

"Frank," said his father in warning. "Con just told you they're working on it."

Frank stared mutinously at his father. Another emotion rose sharply within him alongside the anger and guilt, causing tears to prick his eyes.

_No!_ Frank thought as he vied for control of his emotions.

Fenton could see how upset Frank was, and refrained from asking him about the mix up with the schoolbags. They could talk about that later.

"Gertrude," he said, turning to his white-faced sister. "Can you take Laura into the kitchen and make her something to help her calm down? Maybe some warm milk?"

Gertrude nodded. "Of course. Chief Collig, Con, would either of you like some tea?"

"No thank you, Miss. Hardy," Con answered politely. "We've got some work to do."

"And I'm going with them," said Fenton.

Gertrude opened her mouth to argue, but quickly shut it when Fenton shook his head and sent a warning look at Laura. "Come on, Laura," she said soothingly, her arm around the younger woman. "Let's get a hot drink."

As Gertrude guided Laura into the kitchen, Fenton turned to face the other men. "Can you take me to the crime scene? I still can't drive."

"Of course, Fenton," said Chief Collig understandingly. "Why don't you grab a coat and let Gertrude know? You might want to warn her to listen for the phone as well, just in case the kidnapper calls," he added uneasily.

Fenton nodded grimly.

"I'm coming with you," Frank spoke up, regaining control of his emotions.

"No way, Frank," said his father firmly. "You're staying here."

"But I want to come!" said Frank, outraged.

"A crime scene is no place for a teenager, Frank. You know that!"

"You're going," said Frank accusingly. "And you're not even supposed to be moving around much!"

"You're not going and that's my final word!" snapped Fenton.

Frank didn't answer. Instead, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door. Fenton winced.

"Mercy," exclaimed Gertrude as she appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. "What's going on here?"

"Frank," said Fenton, by way of explanation as they heard a door slam somewhere above them. "Best give him some time to cool down. How's Laura?"

"She's upset, Fenton," said Gertrude. "And frankly, so am I. Are you sure you're able for this?"

"I have to be," answered Fenton.

"Fenton, please," Gertrude argued. "You're not strong enough physically, your body is only just recovering from the shooting. Can't you let the police…"

"We don't have time for this," Fenton cut her off. "Every minute spent arguing is a minute wasted in which we could be finding Joe. My mind is made up."

Gertrude frowned but remained quiet.

"Gertrude," said Fenton, as he lowered his voice. "I need you to listen for the phone tonight in case the kidnapper rings…"

"You don't want Laura or Frank to answer," Gertrude guessed and Fenton nodded.

"Right now, I think they might be a little too emotional," said Fenton, trying to swallow his own emotions. He knew from experience how rattling a phone call from a kidnapper could be.

"Bring your cell phone," Gertrude whispered. "So I can contact you if there's any news."

"Fenton nodded and hugged his sister. Then he went into the kitchen to say goodbye to his wife.

After several minutes, Gertrude lifted her head and addressed the two police officers. "Make sure he doesn't overdo it," she told them, her voice stronger.

The two men nodded as Fenton re-entered the room, a coat in his hands. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go." Turning to Gertrude, he added, "I'll call if we find anything."

"Just find Joe," she told him, acknowledging aloud for the first time that her nephew was missing.

Fenton squeezed her arm reassuringly, and followed Chief Collig and Con out the door.

"Fenton, you sit in the front," said Con as he opened the back door. "You'll be more comfortable."

Thanks, Con," said Fenton gratefully. He knew he would pay for this later tonight, but right now he didn't care. He had a son to find.

As the car reversed out of the drive and drove away, the three men were completely unaware of the fourth passenger hiding in the trunk.

**XXX**

_Ouch! _Frank cursed silently to himself as he hit his head on the trunk of the patrol car when it went over a particularly large bump.

Frank had been determined that his father wasn't going to stop him from looking for his brother. While the men were in the living room, Frank had slammed his bedroom door then snuck back downstairs and into the trunk of the Patrol car. He knew his father would be furious once he found out what Frank had done, but Frank didn't care. He was more worried about Joe.

He was also worried about what he would tell his father about the schoolbags. Frank knew he must have picked up the wrong schoolbag just before he had stormed off after their argument. He and Joe had identical schoolbags. Their mother always bought them the same schoolbag, maintaining that there would be no arguments over who got the better school bag that way.

Frank didn't mind getting into trouble for cutting school. The problem was his father would know he wasn't alone and would want to know who he was with. That meant explaining about Paul and the others, and breaking his promise to Paul that he would say nothing. Not to talk of what would happen if they found out about the elderly woman Mrs. Deagan.

Frank sighed painfully. He had been worrying about Mrs. Deagan ever since Paul and Ryan had dragged him away, and prayed fervently that she would be alright. He couldn't get the image of Ryan striking the woman out of his head and felt nausea rise once more. Frank forced himself not to think about it and his mind returned to something else.

_Joe._

In his head, Frank could hear his words to Joe that afternoon replaying over and over…_I'm sick of you, Joe_…_why do you have to be such a drag_…_I wish I didn't have a brother_…

A violent explosion of pain and guilt hit Frank, and he moaned before he could stop himself. As the turbulent emotions raged inside him, he thumped his hand in frustration with his fist.

_So stupid! _he told himself savagely.

Suddenly, Frank found himself battling desperately to keep his spiralling emotions under control, and he dealt with it the only way he knew how.

He shut down.

When the patrol car pulled up at the crime scene, it was a very detached and unemotional Frank who banged on the lid of the trunk.

As the trunk opened, Frank found himself staring up at the shocked face of Con Riley.

"You shouldn't have come, Frank," said Con, shaking his head as Frank clambered out of the cramped trunk.

They weren't far from where Frank had argued with Joe that afternoon, and Frank felt bile rise in his throat as he realised how soon after the argument Joe must have been kidnapped. Emotions thundered beneath the surface once more, but Frank quashed them. He needed to remain calm.

The area around him was a hive of activity. Several police officers bustled to and from the many patrol cars and vans. Large spotlights had been set up to combat the darkness, as had barriers to deal with the growing number of spectators.

Frank could see his father standing at the front of the patrol car. Fenton was staring at Frank, a mixture of shock and anger on his face. Frank stared defiantly back at his father.

"Frank, what the hell do you think you're doing?" his father yelled.

"I'm looking for my brother!" Frank shot back.

Fenton moved around to the back of the car beside Frank and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Frank, I know you're worried about Joe, we all are. But this is _not_ helping! Your mother and Gertrude will be frantic if they find you gone."

"I can take Frank home if you want?" Con offered, then backed up a step as the teenager glared murderously at him.

"Frank, please," his father begged. "I don't want you here. I want you at home safe with your mother."

"You mean like Joe should be?" said Frank quietly. "Dad, please, I _need _to be here! I'll go crazy at home waiting!"

Fenton sighed. He didn't have the strength to argue. "Fine, you can stay. But I need to call home and let Laura know where you are, she's already had enough scares tonight."

Frank felt the familiar surge of guilt flash through him as his father pulled out his cell phone and stepped away from them to call home.

"Frank, are you sure about this?" asked Con. "Easy," he added, as Frank scowled at him. "I'm just making sure you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine," Frank muttered.

_I couldn't feel any worse than I do now, that's for sure._

They stood in silence for several minutes before Fenton reappeared, tucking his cell away. "Your mother's not pleased, Frank," said Fenton. "And I don't blame her. I'm not happy about this either, not happy at all."

Frank remained silent, and Fenton looked at Con who shrugged.

"Fenton, are you ready?" called Chief Collig from where he was speaking with another officer.

Fenton nodded, and with an anxious glance at Frank, crossed over to the Chief of Police.

Chief Collig frowned at Frank. "Fenton, what's Frank doing here? I don't think it's a good idea for him to be here."

"Neither do I," said Fenton shortly, "but there isn't much I can do about it."

Chief Collig's frown deepened as he studied Frank, and Frank arranged his face into what he hoped was an unruffled expression.

The Chief sighed. "Fine. This way."

Beckoning them forward, he led them over to a patch of ground that had been sealed off using the type of yellow crime scene tape that Frank usually only saw on TV.

"Here," said Chief Collig, as he ducked beneath the tape. Fenton moved swiftly after him, but Con placed a restraining arm on Frank before he could follow him. "No, Frank," he said firmly. "It's a crime scene, and your father and Chief Collig know how to move around it without disturbing any evidence. You don't."

Frank couldn't argue with Con's logic so he just shook his hand off instead. He watched his father and Chief Collig very closely as they studied the ground.

"It was definitely here?" asked Fenton.

"Yes," said Chief Collig. "You can see where the…" The Chief's voice trailed off and he glanced uncertainly at Fenton.

"Where the struggle took place?" Fenton finished softly and the Chief nodded unhappily.

"The ground is very messed up," said Fenton, almost to himself.

Chief Collig nodded. "It looks like Joe put up quite a fight," he said gently. "Fenton, there was some blood on the ground."

Fenton's head snapped up. "Was it Joe's?"

"Fenton…"

I know, I know. You won't know until you get it tested," said Fenton wearily. "Sorry, Ezra, I didn't think."

"Perfectly understandable," said the Chief gruffly.

"Any evidence?"

"Just this," the Chief answered as he held up a small bag in his hand. Inside it was a white rag. "It's chloroform judging by the smell."

Frank watched the exchange with a sickening feeling. An image of his brother being pounced on crept into his mind and Frank tried to brush it away. Quickly he turned from the scene where the kidnapping had taken place. His heart was hammering madly in his chest and Frank could feel his breathing quicken.

"Frank, are you okay?" he heard Con ask.

"Yeah," Frank answered, and was surprised by how lost and childlike his voice sounded.

Con was watching him in concern when his father and Chief Collig rejoined them.

"Frank?" said Fenton, as he noticed how pale his son was. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Frank lied.

Fenton saw right through him. He said nothing, merely put a comforting arm around Frank's shoulder. Frank couldn't help but feel reassured by its presence.

_What would the guys say if they could see you now? _sneered a voice in his head. _Who cares? _argued another. _They beat up on little old ladies!_

Frank couldn't repress the shudder that ran through his body as he pictured the violent scene he had witnessed earlier that afternoon.

"Frank?" said his father, concerned.

"I'm okay," Frank mumbled.

"Are you sure?" asked Fenton as he scrutinised Frank.

"I'm positive," Frank yelled suddenly, shaking off his father's arm. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because they're worried about you," retorted Fenton, his voice low. He was painfully aware of the many eyes that had swivelled in their direction at Frank's yell.

Frank didn't answer.

"Frank," said Fenton, his voice stern. "I know you've been through a rough time lately, and I'm guessing you probably feel pretty upset right now, but this is not the time for temper tantrums!"

Frank nodded guiltily. "Sorry, Dad."

Fenton frowned at him and turned back to Chief Collig. "Ezra, were there any witnesses?"

The Chief winced. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean not exactly?" Fenton demanded. "Who phoned in the kidnapping?"

Chief Collig exchanged a look with Con Riley.

"That woman over there," said Con in a low voice.

Fenton followed Con's gaze. A woman with dark hair and a red sweater sat half-in, half-out, of a patrol car. She held a boy of about seven on her knees and was rocking him back and forth. They both looked lost.

"Has anybody questioned her?" asked Fenton.

"No," Con shook his head.

"No!" Fenton exclaimed. "But she's a witness!"

"She's not the witness, Fenton," said Chief Collig softly.

Fenton's heart thudded right down into his shoes as he looked at the little boy. "Oh no! You mean…?"

Con nodded. "The little kid saw it all. He's pretty traumatised by the whole thing."

Fenton swallowed. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was upset a traumatised child by forcing him to relive what he had seen. But on the other hand, this little boy seemed to be the only person who had seen what happened to his son. If they waited for him to find his nerve, precious time would tick away and it might be too late to find Joe.

Fenton swallowed.

"Ezra, what happened?" he asked hoarsely. "Why didn't the mother see anything?"

"The little boy was playing in his front yard," Chief Collig answered and pointed down the street. "They live just up there. His mother thinks his ball bounced out the gate and he went out after it. When she realised he was missing, she came looking for him and found him sitting on the pavement crying hysterically. She got enough of a story from him to guess what happened and called the police. But she hasn't let anyone near the child to ask him any questions. Says her husband is on the way and we can talk to him."

"Let me talk to her," said Fenton.

"Fenton…"

"Ezra, please!" he begged.

The Chief sighed and nodded. "The woman's name is Sandy Keane."

"Thank you," said Fenton gratefully, as moved towards the woman. Frank followed silently.

"Mrs. Keane?" said Fenton as he approached the woman. "I'm Fenton Hardy. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

The woman looked up and her face was grim and strained. She didn't look much older than twenty five. "I already told that other officer that Adam wouldn't be answering any questions," she said hoarsely tightening her grip on her son. "He's been through enough for one day."

"I'm not a police officer," said Fenton. "That boy today, he's…he's my son."

The woman stared at him and Fenton caught the flash of sympathy in her eyes. "Please," he begged softly. "Every second is precious. I promise I won't upset Adam."

The woman hesitated, then nodded.

Fenton smiled gratefully at her. "Hi," he said, crouching down beside the car and facing the little boy. He had blond hair. _Like Joe_, Fenton realised with a pang. "My name is Fenton. Your mommy tells me your name is Adam?"

The little boy glanced at his mother who nodded encouragingly. He looked back at Fenton. "Y-yes," he answered.

"So, Adam," Fenton continued softly. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Adam shook his head.

"Really?" Fenton smiled gently. "So you don't have to share your mom or dad with anyone? I bet you get on really well."

Adam nodded and smiled slightly. "We're going to the circus together on Sunday."

"Lucky you, the circus is great fun."

Adam smiled a little wider. "I want to see the elephants! Dad said they dance at the circus!"

"They sure do. Do you see that boy over there?" He indicated Frank and Adam nodded. "Well, that's my son Frank."

Adam looked at Frank again. "He's tall," he whispered.

Fenton chuckled. "He is," he agreed. "And when he was your age, I brought him to the circus to see the elephants, but they scared him."

"Really?" said Adam, his eyes wide.

"Yup," Fenton answered. "But my other son, Joe, wasn't afraid at all and actually got to ride one of the elephants! You'd like Joe, he has hair just like yours."

"Is he tall too?" asked Adam.

Fenton felt a lump form in his throat and his smile faded. "No, not really," he told Adam. "He's very small for his age. In fact, he's not really that much bigger than you."

"Is he here?" asked Adam.

"No, he's not," said Fenton sadly, and glanced at Mrs. Keane.

The woman tightened her arms around her son and said gently, "Adam, that boy you saw today was Joe."

Adam's eyes widened fearfully and his lower lip started to tremble.

"Adam," said Fenton gently, as he put his hand on the little boy's knee. "I love my son very much and I really want to get him home safe. Can you help me?"

Tremulously, Adam nodded.

"Thank you, Adam. Now, I don't want you to get scared, okay? I'm just going to ask you a couple of questions."

"'Kay," Adam whispered.

"When did you first see Joe?"

"When I went to get my ball," said Adam. "It went into the bushes, and I went in to get it. I was going to come out when I saw Joe across the road. Th-there was a man behind him." Tears began to roll down Adam's face and Fenton squeezed his knee reassuringly.

"Take your time, Adam. You're doing really well."

Adam sniffed. "Joe saw the man and…and he threw his bag at him and tried to run away, but the man caught him."

"What happened then, Adam?" asked Fenton, keeping his voice low and even.

"The man pushed him on the ground and…and banged his head," Adam's voice dropped to a whisper.

Fenton swallowed, trying not to picture the scene. "Did you see anything else, Adam?"

"No!" the little boy sobbed. "I closed my eyes!"

"That's okay, Adam," said Fenton soothingly. "You've done very well, and I think you're a very brave boy."

"Really?" the child sniffled.

"Really," said Fenton. "Can you do just one more thing for me?"

Adam nodded.

"Can you describe the man for me?"

Adam scrunched up his tear streaked face trying to think. "He…he was big."

"How big?" Fenton prodded gently. "Was he as tall as me?" Fenton stood up to emphasise his question.

Adam looked up at him and shook his head. "No, he wasn't as tall as you. But he had big muscles, like Batman."

"Do you remember what colour hair he had?"

Adam shook his head. "No, he had a hat on."

"A hat?"

"Yeah, a blue one. It looked like mine."

"Anything else?" asked Fenton as he crouched down beside Adam again.

Adam shook his head miserably.

"Nothing?" said Fenton a little desperately.

"N-no," said Adam, starting to cry again.

"Shhh, it's okay. Don't cry, Adam," said Fenton, trying to speak past the growing lump in his throat. "You did very well. When we…when we find Joe, I'll make sure to tell him it was because you helped us, okay?"

Adam nodded as his mother cuddled him close.

"Thank you," said Fenton hoarsely to Sandy Keane as he got to his feet. The mother nodded, her eyes brimming with tears and sympathy. She was a parent, she understood.

As Fenton turned away, Frank caught a glimpse of his father's face. He was shocked at the look of crushing disappointment he saw there, and realised with dawning horror what his father already knew.

They had nothing to go on.

_**A/N: **Once again, thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed! It's addictive reading your feedback:-)_

**The Silent Rumble;** Thank you so much! And yes, I love the Hardy Boys (have done since I was 9!). That's why fan fiction is such a godsend, I can write my own Hardy Boys and indulge myself in reading as much fan fiction as I want!

**Paperdaisies**; I'm glad you agree with me about the on hiatus thing! I prefer to post finished stories, I hate showing unfinished work to anyone! And don't worry, the story might be dark and angsty but I would never kill off a main character! Aside from that, I don't want to give away too much about the ending!

**Mocha Addict**; I'm on a favourites list? You know, you've just made my day! Thank you so much!

**Ca**; Thanks for the review, glad you like how things are panning out so far. I hope you continue to!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Frank sat in the back of the patrol car as Con Riley drove back to Bayport Police Station. His father sat in the front beside Con. Nobody spoke.

There had been nothing else of use found at the crime scene and so Fenton had decided to go with Con to the station in the hopes that the chloroformed rag or the blood might turn up something. He hadn't even tried to persuade Frank to go home knowing full well that he would refuse.

The car pulled up in front of the Police station and as Frank opened the car door, he felt his stomach growl. Hearing it, Fenton glanced at Frank. "Frank, are you hungry?"

Frank shook his head. "No, not really."

He hadn't eaten in hours but knew that if he did eat, he would be sick. Too much had happened in the last few hours and Frank felt weak from shock and stress.

Fenton frowned at Frank. "When did you last eat?"

"Dad, I'm not hungry, alright?" Frank snapped as they walked up the front steps to the station.

"Fine," said Fenton, resigned. He was too tired to argue with Frank, the evening had taken a lot out of him.

They entered into the main lobby of the station and Con turned to them. "I'm just going to drop this down to the lab," he said, holding up the case that contained the evidence from the crime scene. "Why don't you have a seat over the there by the desk and I'll get us all some tea and sandwiches from the canteen?"

"Thanks, Con," said Fenton gratefully while Frank made his way over to the chairs by the front desk and sank into one hidden by a large potted plant.

Fenton looked at Frank. "I need to call Laura and Sam, Frank. Will you be okay here while I step outside?"

Frank nodded and Fenton headed out the front door again.

Sighing, Frank started to listen to the two desk sergeant's conversation in the hope of distracting himself. They were talking about sport and Frank listened to them half-heartedly, reminding himself not to think about Joe.

Suddenly the phone rang. Frank heard one of the men pick it up and answer it.

"Hello?…..Nothing so far?.….That's right, Chief Collig thinks there's a chance.….I hope so…..No problem. Okay, thanks, bye."

The officer hung up.

"What's up?" asked his Colleague.

"That was one of the guys in the lab. Nothing turned up on that assault earlier today."

"The old woman?" asked the second officer and Frank froze, listening intently.

"Yeah," answered the first officer. "I think it's sick that someone would do that to an old lady."

"Me too," his companion agreed. "Any word on how she is?"

"Still out cold the last time I heard from the hospital. Doctors aren't sure yet if she'll wake up."

"I hope she'll be okay. A blow like that must have been brutal to such a frail old woman."

"Bayport's not what it was," snorted the first officer in disgust. "An old lady is assaulted and a little kid goes missing, all in one day."

"Who's missing?" asked the second officer in surprise.

"You haven't heard!" said the first officer incredulously. "Where have you been all evening? It's Fenton Hardy's kid, he was grabbed after school or something."

"That's rough," said the second officer. "Do they know who did it?"

"Not a clue. And with Fenton Hardy being who he is, it could be anyone!"

"Probably some psycho looking for revenge," said the second officer knowledgably.

"Haven't you two anything better to do than sit here and gossip?" Con Riley's voice sounded sharply from behind the officers.

"Uh, yes sir," said the first officer meekly, followed by the sound of paper shuffling.

Con appeared around the desk carrying a tray with three cups and a plate of sandwiches.

"Here you go," he said to Frank as he set the tray on the chair beside Frank and sat on the other side.

"Thanks, Con," Frank mumbled and took a cup of tea.

Con noticed his hands were shaking. "How are you holding up?" he asked kindly.

Frank shrugged.

"Just ignore them, Frank," said Con as he indicated the desk sergeants. "We'll find Joe."

Frank nodded and took a sip of his tea. His heart felt too heavy to answer Con.

Fenton Hardy reappeared beside them and sat in the chair beside Con. "Sam's getting the first plane back from Washington in the morning," he announced.

"Sam was in Washington?" asked Con.

"Yeah, he was working on a case. With me laid up, Sam's been pretty busy." Fenton grimaced and Con looked at him sympathetically.

"How's Laura?"

"Scared out of her mind," answered Fenton. "And so am I," he added softly.

"We'll find him," Con repeated, handing him a cup of tea. "Joe will be fine."

Silence fell while the two men ate their sandwiches and drank their tea. Frank drank his tea but merely picked at his sandwich. He still couldn't eat.

More than an hour and a half went by, and the small party remained sitting quietly by the front desk. Frank wanted to scream to drive away the oppressive silence. "How much longer?" he asked irritably.

"They should have the results by now," said Con, frowning as he glanced at his watch. "I asked them to put a rush on it. I think I'll just phone the lab."

Con stood up and moved over to the front desk. Frank heard him pick up the phone and dial. He strained his ears to listen.

"Hi, this is Con Riley. I left evidence from a crime scene in there this evening to process and was wondering if it was ready?…..Uh-huh.….Uh-huh.….Because I asked him to put a rush on it. This case has precedence over everything!"

Frank heard Con groan in frustration. "Tell me you at least have…..Well, that's something I suppose…..Okay, fine…..Yes. Please let me know…..Thanks. Bye."

Con hung up the phone. Frank and Fenton were by his side in a flash.

"Have they found anything?" asked Fenton anxiously.

"DNA have," Con sighed. "I'm sorry, Fenton, but that was Joe's blood at the scene."

Fenton winced. He had expected that, but it still hurt to hear it. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Joe's epithelials were found on the rag, but no other DNA. And Trace identified the compound on the rag as chloroform and carbon tetrachloride."

"CTC?" said Fenton sharply.

Con nodded unhappily. "This guy meant business."

"What's CTC?" Frank demanded.

"It's a chemical," Con answered. "It's used in certain pesticides and fire extinguishers."

"But what does it do?" asked Frank.

"You know what Chloroform does?" said Con carefully, and Frank nodded. "Well, used with CTC, it would be very potent. It would probably knock Joe out for several hours and make him pretty sick."

"Oh." Frank looked at the ground.

"What about fingerprints?" Fenton asked Con weakly.

"Nothing yet. The fingerprint analysist on the night shift called in sick and his cover hasn't arrived yet. It could be the early hours of the morning before we get any results on that."

Fenton fell silent.

"I think you should go home, Fenton," said Con softly. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

Fenton nodded. He knew Con was right.

"WHAT!" Frank exploded. "How can you think about going home when Joe is still out there?"

"Because there's nothing more we can do tonight!" said Fenton sharply. "We need daylight to thoroughly examine the surrounding area of the crime scene for tire tracks or anything we might have missed tonight, and the lab won't have anything for us until morning. I don't know about you, Frank, but I think it would be a very good idea if we weren't exhausted when the investigation takes off tomorrow!"

Con shuffled uncomfortably as Frank glared at his father. He had witnessed way too many of these scenes this evening and wondered what was wrong with Frank.

_It's the worry over Joe_, Con decided.

"Come on," said Con. "I'll drive you home."

"Thanks, Con," said Fenton, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

The two men exited the station followed by a glowering Frank. The had just reached the bottom of the steps when Con gave a sharp intake of breath. "Uh-oh," he muttered. "Trouble."

Frank glanced in the direction Con was looking in, and felt his heart sink. Heading their way was about eight or nine reporters and camera men, and they all looked hungry for blood.

Fenton groaned. "How did they find out?" Turning back, he grabbed Frank's arm and pulled him in between himself and Con as the reporters closed in.

"Mr. Hardy, Mr. Hardy! Is it true your son was kidnapped?"

"Have you any idea who took him?"

"Some people are saying it's one of the men you put away out for revenge, how do you feel about that?"

"How does your wife feel?"

"Do the police have any leads?"

Fenton and Con fought their way to the patrol car gripping Frank tightly between them. Fenton had his arm around Frank's shoulder for which the boy was grateful. He felt suffocated by these incessant vultures.

They made it to the car. Con tried to keep the reporters back so Frank could get into the backseat of the car. But as Fenton opened the door for him, one of the reporters shouted, "Frank, aren't you worried you might never see your brother again?"

Frank whirled around, looking for the person who had thrown the question. "Leave me alone!" he yelled. "God, what's wrong with you people! Don't you have any feelings?"

"Get in the car, Frank," said Fenton urgently as cameras flashed around them. "These people don't care, they'll do anything for a story."

Frank slid into the back seat, fuming quietly. His father climbed into the passenger seat and Frank was nearly blinded by flashes as cameras were aimed at the car. He could see Con fighting his way to the driver's side. Another flash went off right outside Frank's window and he buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream at these people to get the hell out of here!

"We'll be out of this soon, Frank," said his father soothingly as Con got into the car. "Are you okay?"

Frank didn't answer his father. He stayed as he was until he felt the car pull out and drive away from the relentless mob. Only then did he lift his head.

**XXX**

Joe awoke without opening his eyes. His head throbbed painfully and his stomach felt sick.

_Where am I?_

He opened his eyes and quickly closed them again as the room spun crazily around him. Nausea rose in his throat and Joe tried not to retch. His head felt thick and his memories were hazy. An image of a large man flashed through his mind.

Slowly, Joe cracked open his eyes. He was in a small room with grey walls illuminated by a single light bulb on the ceiling. The cot he was lying on was small and grubby. The boy shivered with cold, then realised his shoes and jacket were gone.

He tried to sit up but winced at the pain. Raising his hand to his forehead, Joe felt a swollen, sticky welt. His fingers were red as he lowered his hand.

_Blood_, he realised.

Nausea rose again in his throat and Joe realised he was about to be sick.

Carefully, he sat up and looked to his right. There was a toilet in the corner of the room. Joe slid off the bed quickly and his legs nearly buckled beneath him as the room swayed violently. Keeping his hand against the wall to steady himself, Joe made his way to the toilet. He lowered himself to the floor slowly, careful not to jar his aching head.

He was just in time. As he heaved miserably, Joe was forced to close his eyes against the pain in his head. Retching and choking, he vomited into the dirty toilet.

When he was finished, he reached up a shaking hand and flushed the toilet, then flopped, exhausted, back on to the floor. His body was beaded in a cold sweat and he was shaking so hard, it physically hurt.

As he lay on the floor, Joe studied his surroundings. A large, heavy oak door dominated one side of the room and he guessed it was the way in. There was no door handle and the boy knew it was probably locked. Looking to the left, he could see the outline of where a window had once been. Now it was bricked up.

The room was basically a prison cell.

Fear and panic finally kicked in and Joe felt tears well up in his eyes.

_What's going on?_

Joe whimpered a little as he tried to get up. Still shaking, he realised he didn't have the strength to stand, and so crawled back to the grubby little cot and pulled himself onto it.

Curling into a ball, the child hugged himself. He was freezing cold, his head ached and he felt very ill.

_I want to go home_, Joe thought as he sobbed noiselessly.

_**A/N:** Yet again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying the fic; I was a little worried there would be war when everyone first caught a glimpse of moody Frank! But he's slowly transforming into the Frank we know and love._

**The Silent Rumble**; Wow, you really thought that about chapter 4? I'm chuffed, thank you. I'm afraid I've no plans for betaing at the moment because I'm so busy but maybe in a couple of months when things die down a bit?

**CA:** Thanks, I'm glad you think so. I really didn't want to write Frank as a moody teenager without good reason and without showing some of the person he's to become.

**astalder27**; I think you can already see Frank's guilt over his words to Joe coming into play. And I always felt that Frank is such a protective big brother (well, in the digests and bluespines anyway) that there must have been someway that came about, and voila! _Broken Threads _was born!

**beneaththesurface9**: If you damage your nice laptop then you won't be able to read more fanfiction! ;-) Glad you like the story so far, thanks for the comments!

And to **Tesub Callie** who reviewed _Family Values_;

Thank you so much for your reviews and kind words. I'm glad I was able to entice you into a Hardy's only story! ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was nearly eleven thirty when Frank and his father finally arrived home. As they entered the house with Con Riley, a red-eyed Laura rushed to meet them.

"Any news?" she asked breathlessly.

Despondent, Fenton shook his head and put his arm around his wife, steering her towards the living room. Gertrude entered it from the kitchen.

"What did you find out?" she asked anxiously.

"Nothing," Fenton responded. "Any news? Did anyone ring?"

Gertrude shook her head.

"Why hasn't the kidnapper contacted us?" Frank asked his father desperately.

"I have no idea," said Fenton wearily.

The Hardys fell silent and Con spoke up. "Um, Fenton? I'm sorry, but I'm going to need a recent picture of Joe for our missing persons."

"I'll get it," said Gertrude heavily, crossing to the bookcase and removing a photo album from the shelf. Leafing through it, she found a picture of Frank and Joe sitting on the floor surrounded by wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Both were grinning at the camera. "What about this one?" she asked as she removed the picture.

Frank caught a glimpse of the picture as Gertrude held it out to Con. "No! Not that one!" he cried and snatched it from his aunt's fingers.

"Frank!" exclaimed Gertrude, shocked.

"We're not giving this one away!" said Frank, breathing heavily and clutching the picture to his chest.

"Okay, Frank, okay," said Fenton. "We'll use another one."

Wordlessly, Gertrude flicked through the photo album again and selected a picture of Joe and his mother sitting on the couch. "Here," she said quietly, passing it to Con.

"Thanks, Miss. Hardy," he said. She nodded and returned the album to its place.

"Would you like some tea, Con?" Laura offered.

"No, thank you, Laura," answered Con. "I'd best be off."

"Thanks for everything this evening, Con," said Fenton. "Promise me you'll call if you discover anything new? No matter how late it is."

"I'll call," said Con as he looked at the Hardys sympathetically. "Get some rest. The boys from electronics will be over tomorrow to put a trace on your phone."

Fenton nodded.

"I'll show myself out," said Con. "Night all."

Con departed, leaving the Hardy family alone.

"I'll make us some tea," said Gertrude quietly and headed for the kitchen.

Laura sank into one of the armchairs, a hand over her eyes. Fenton placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Laura. We'll find him," he said, but his words had a hollow ring to them.

Frank turned and headed for the door. He wanted to reach the sanctuary of his room but Fenton's voice stopped him. "Hold it, Frank."

Frank winced and faced his father. There was a grim tone in Fenton Hardy's voice that he didn't often hear there.

"Yes, Dad?"

"I want to know how you and Joe got your schoolbags mixed up today," said Fenton as he stared at Frank intently.

Frank's heart plummeted. How was he going to explain this one?

"Well?" pressed Fenton when Frank didn't respond.

"I, uh, met him after school," said Frank, staring at the floor.

"What!" Fenton exclaimed. "What time? Where? Jesus, Frank, you couldn't have said this earlier?"

Frank winced at the tone of his father's voice. Fenton noticed at once and softened his words. "I'm sorry, Frank. But information like that is crucial to the investigation! We need to narrow the time frame for when Joe was kidnapped as well as the area. Now, what time did you see Joe at?"

"After school," answered Frank evasively.

"I gathered as much, what time was it exactly?" said Fenton impatiently.

"I dunno," Frank mumbled. "I wasn't wearing a watch."

Fenton sighed. "Could you at least guess?"

"I was walking to a friend's house after school, and Joe was heading to Biff's I think."

"Where did you meet him?" asked Fenton, studying his son. Frank was holding back on him, he could tell.

"Just down from the crime scene," said Frank, avoiding his father's eyes.

"What! But then you could be a witness! Frank, did you see anything?"

Frank's head shot up. "You think that if I saw anything I wouldn't have already told the police?" he demanded angrily.

"I didn't mean that, Frank," said his father wearily. "I meant you could have seen something unusual without realising it. A car? Someone acting oddly perhaps? Anything! Think, Frank!"

"I SAW NOTHING!" Frank shouted, becoming more agitated.

"Frank, please," came his mother's soft voice. "Don't shout."

"Sorry, Mom." Frank glanced at his father. "You think I haven't already played the possibilities in my head? Dad, I didn't see anything."

"Okay, fine," said Fenton, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "How did you and Joe manage to get each others' schoolbags."

"Our bags were on the ground. I must have picked his up without realising it."

"How could you not have known?" asked Fenton confused. Frank was usually extremely perceptive about small details.

"I…I was mad," Frank admitted shamefacedly.

"At Joe?" asked Fenton softly and Frank nodded.

"We had a fight," he whispered and his voice quavered. "I stormed off."

Fenton stared at Frank pityingly. He could see this was tearing him up. "What did you fight about?"

"It doesn't matter now," Frank said, staring at the floor once more.

"Frank, don't blame yourself," said Fenton, guessing what his son was thinking. "You weren't to know what would happen."

"I don't want to talk about it," Frank mumbled.

"Frank…"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" Frank yelled. Whirling around, he stormed from the room and slammed the door.

"Let him go," said Laura quietly as Fenton made to go after him. "Frank needs to be alone right now."

**XXX**

_Argggggggh! _Frank screamed silently as he kicked his bed violently.

_Stupid_…kick…_moron_…another kick…_idiot_…Frank punched the wall hard, and pain seared through his fingers bringing the teenager back to reality.

_I'm sorry, Joe_, he thought as he flopped wearily onto the bed.

The picture was still in his hands. It was the last photo that had been taken of Frank with his brother, he couldn't let Con take it.

Frank stared down at Joe's grinning face.

_What if that's the last photo that will ever be taken of me and Joe? _Frank wondered. _What if I never get to tell him I'm sorry?_

Frank swallowed hard. The thought that he might never see his brother again caused him actual physical pain. Frank bit down hard on his lip as he fought to control the howl of misery building inside him.

_If I'd gone with Joe instead of the guys then he'd be here safe and Mrs. Deagan mightn't have been hurt! It's all my fault! I'm a disaster! Why can't I do anything right?_

The pain in Frank's chest continued to build and a tight knot formed in his throat making it hard to breathe.

_I need to get out of here! _Frank realised as he felt his bedroom walls close in around him.

Quickly, Frank slid off his bed. He put the picture in his pocket and pulled a warm coat from the closet. Opening his window, Frank clambered out onto the trellis and started to climb down. It was bitterly cold and Frank could see his breathing rising in uneven mists of heat before his eyes. Near the bottom, Frank slipped and fell the remainder of the way, breaking the trellis, tearing his hand and ruining his mother's roses.

_Damn! _he thought, listening to see if his parents had heard him.

They hadn't. Quickly, Frank scrambled off the ground and set off into the night.

_Where am I going? _he wondered and was surprised when a voice answered, _Paul's_.

It was after midnight and the streets of Bayport were quiet as Frank jogged to Paul's house. The silence was only broken by the occasional barking of a dog as Frank went by, or the sound of a car in the distance.

The lights were out when he finally reached Paul's house. It took several minutes of Frank throwing pebbles at Paul's window before a light went on and a tousled dark head was poked out the window.

"Whozzat?" Paul's sleepy voice whispered.

"It's me, Frank."

"I'll be right down," said Paul, instantly awake.

Minutes later, as Frank stood shivering on the back porch, the door opened and Paul stepped out into the night air fully dressed.

"What are you doing here?" Paul hissed.

"I needed to talk to someone," Frank answered.

Paul studied him for a moment. "Okay," he said, motioning to Frank to come in. "But we have to be quiet, I don't want to wake my dad."

Frank nodded and stepped into the welcome heat of the kitchen. Paul followed after him and closed the door. "Bloody hell, it's cold," whispered Paul as he blew on his fingers. "Did you walk the whole way here?"

Frank nodded. "You're crazy," Paul told him disbelievingly.

There was several minutes of silence, then Paul said, "I heard about your brother. I'm sorry, Frank"

Frank was surprised. "How did you know?"

"It's all over the news," answered Paul.

"Oh."

"You okay?"

"What do you think?" said Frank.

"Okay, stupid question. But what are you doing here?"

Frank was silent for several minutes. What was he doing here?

"Frank?"

"I need to tell Dad the truth," he answered finally, as realisation kicked in. "Just about skipping school, not the other…stuff."

"No way, Frank!" Paul exclaimed quietly. "They'll put two and two together that we all skipped school, and that might lead them straight to the old lady! I'm not joking, Ryan's dad will kill him if he finds out!"

"Paul, I have to!" Frank pleaded. "Joe was kidnapped not far from where we…where we argued today. I need to give Dad and the police an exact timeline so they have something to work with!"

Paul was silent.

"He's my brother, Paul."

Paul nodded. "I know. Do it, Frank."

"Really?" Frank was surprised.

"You said it yourself, he's your brother."

Frank smiled, relieved. "Thanks, Paul."

"Don't thank me yet," said Paul softly.

"What do you mean?"

Paul sighed. "I've known Ryan my whole life, Frank. He can be a jerk sometimes but he's my best friend and he's always looked out for me. I've been lucky. My mom might be dead, but my dad and my brother are great. Ryan's not so lucky; his dad's a complete jackass! Yet Ryan has still always looked out for _me_! I'm not stupid, Frank. Telling your dad the truth will lead the police back to Ryan, and that betrayal means you'll never be welcome in our gang again."

Frank was shocked. "Is that a threat? Chose carefully or you'll be in trouble?"

Paul shook his head. "No. I'm just preparing you for what will happen when you do."

Frank stared at Paul. There was no hint of a threat or malice in his voice. "You do know I'm going to choose Joe, don't you?" Frank warned.

"Of course," Paul answered simply. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The two teenagers stared at each other for a long time. "I'd better go," said Frank finally.

"Okay. You take care, Frank."

You too," said Frank as he turned to leave.

"Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope Joe comes home safe."

**XXX**

It was just before eight the next morning when Laura Hardy knocked on Frank's door. "Frank, honey? I know you're not going to school today but…"

As she pushed open the door, Laura screamed.

"FENTON!"

Fenton Hardy came rushing up the stairs as quickly as his weakened physique would allow. "What is it? What's wrong?" he demanded.

"It's Frank!" cried Laura. "He's not in his room and his bed hasn't been slept in!"

Fenton gasped and entered the room. Quickly he crossed to the open window and looked out. He immediately spotted the broken trellis and the battered roses.

_Dammit, Frank! What the hell are you playing at?_

Without saying a word, Fenton pushed past his agitated wife and surprised sister who had joined them in the room. He moved to the phone, snatched it up and dialled Chief Collig.

"Hello?" a gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Ezra? It's Fenton. Frank's missing!"

"What!" the Chief exploded. "When? How?"

"It looks like he snuck out sometime last night."

"I'll send out some Patrol cars and put the word out. In the meantime, can you try phoning all his friends to see if he went to one of their houses?"

"Okay," Fenton agreed. "Ezra, if you find him, will you tell him we're not mad? He might be worried that we are."

"Of course," answered Ezra. "I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, Ezra. I'd appreciate that."

As Fenton hung up, he turned to his wife and sister.

"Gertrude, can you do me a favour? Call all of Frank's friends and see if he went to any of their houses last night. Or if they know where he might have gone."

Gertrude nodded. "Fenton, what…?" she began.

"Sorry, Gertrude," Fenton cut her off. "No time for questions. Laura, can you grab the car keys?"

"Where are we going?" asked his wife.

"To look for Frank, but I need you to drive."

"Fenton, you're not up to it," his wife protested. "You're really pale today and I heard you groaning in pain all night when you got back from the station."

"Laura," said Fenton as gently as he could. "Joe is missing and we don't know why. I don't want to take the chance that whoever has Joe might go after Frank too."

Laura winced and nodded. It pained her to think about it, but Fenton's words had a ring of truth.

"I'll get the keys," she whispered.

_**A/N**: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, you have no idea how much your comments make my day! ;-)_

**The Silent Rumble**: Once again, thanks for the review!

**Classacte**: The old woman will have a part to play...just not in the way you expect!

**beneaththesurface9**: Thanks, hope you like this one as well!

**Mocha Addict**: Yup, more Joe angst, hope it's keeping you happy! ;-) And I agree with what you wrote about putting our favourite characters through hell; it is artly to see them emerge the stronger, but I think it's also partly because we want them to get the most page/screen time and the best lines!

**An-Jelly-Ca**: Thanks, glad you're enjoying it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Fenton stared out the car window as Laura drove through Bayport. He was exhausted and his lungs hurt.

_I guess the doctor really knew what he was talking about when he warned me to rest_, thought Fenton, trying to hide the fact that he was in pain from Laura. He could see that she was barely keeping it together.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Laura shook her head and her grip on the steering wheel tightened until her knuckles went white. "Of course I'm not okay, Fenton!" she snapped, then softened her tone. "Sorry."

"It's okay," said Fenton, reaching out and patting her arm.

"No, it's not okay," said Laura. "You're worried too and it's not fair of me to be taking my frustration out on you. It's just that…I've never felt so helpless in my life!"

Fenton looked at her, surprised. "What about when you and the boys were kidnapped at Lake Adams?"

"That was different," Laura answered as she turned the car off Main Street. "I was with the boys then, I knew what was happening! Right now, I don't even know if they're alive!" Laura's voice broke at the last word and the car swerved.

"Laura, pull in," said Fenton gently.

Laura parked the car and turned to Fenton. "What if we never get either of them back?" she croaked and burst into tears.

Hurriedly, Fenton put his arms around her. "We'll get _both_ boys home safe and sound, Laura, I promise."

"How can you promise something like that?" Laura cried into her husband's chest. "You don't even know where they are!"

"I didn't know where all three of you were when you were kidnapped from Lake Adams," Fenton reminded her. "I thought I'd never see _any_ of you again but I never stopped hoping, and you can't either. I found you all then and I'll find the boys now! Plus, the boys are older now, and remember how resourceful they were, even then?"

Laura laughed shakily. "I remember," she said pulling away from her husband. "I was so proud of them for being so brave."

"Then don't give up hope," said Fenton.

Just then, his cell phone rang loudly. Fenton answered it quickly. "Fenton Hardy."

"Did you find Frank yet?" It was his sister.

"No. I take it none of his friends have seen him?" said Fenton.

"Not one," sighed Gertrude. "And the police were here. They installed some electronic do-hickey on the phone, so you'd better get back here soon because I have no idea how to work the stupid thing!"

Fenton chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll be home the second we find Frank. Anyone else call?"

"Chief Collig did. He found out that Joe finished school early yesterday because the heating broke down."

"Around what time?" asked Fenton sharply.

"Lunchtime," answered Gertrude. "Fenton, there's more."

"More?"

"Frank's school called. He missed all of his classes yesterday afternoon."

Fenton was shocked. _Frank cut school?_

"Fenton, you need a serious word with that boy! Outbursts of temper and now he's skipping school? Enough is enough!"

Fenton didn't answer. _Frank lied_, he thought. _He lied about when he saw Joe!_

"Fenton? Are you there?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm here. Gertrude, thanks for calling. I'd better go, we need to keep the phone free…just in case there's any calls."

"I understand. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye," said Fenton as he hung up.

"Fenton?" said Laura. "What was that all about?"

Fenton stared at his cell phone. "Frank cut school yesterday."

"What!" Laura exclaimed. Quickly Fenton filled her in on the phone call. When he was finished, Laura spoke up.

"He's going to confess."

"What?"

"Frank is going to tell us the truth"

Fenton was startled. "How do you know that?"

"When Frank was small, whenever he did something he knew would upset me, he used to disappear for an hour or so. I don't know why, he just did. And then he would suddenly reappear and confess everything."

"I never knew he used to do that," said Fenton thoughtfully.

Laura gave him a small smile. "It was during your more _career driven _days. Besides, he hasn't done it in years."

Fenton grimaced at the reminder of what he had missed during his sons' early years when he had been too busy chasing down criminals to spend time with them. Then suddenly, something struck him.

"I know where Frank is!"

"What?" said Laura, unsure if she had heard right.

"I know where Frank is," Fenton repeated.

"How…?"

"I'll explain on the way," said Fenton.

"On the way where?" asked Laura, bewildered.

"Bayport Cemetery."

**XXX**

The dark-haired figure of a teenage boy sitting quietly beside a headstone did not arouse the suspicion of the cemetery caretaker when he unlocked the gates that morning. He had been working there for a long time. Over the years, he had discovered many grief-stricken relatives, lovers and friends slumped beside the grave of a loved one in the early hours of the morning. Some came to confess, others to talk, and some to say goodbye.

The boy was pale and looked half-frozen, but the caretaker could tell by the earnest way he was talking to the gravestone that the last thing in the world he wanted was to be disturbed.

Quietly, the old caretaker headed for the other side of the graveyard.

**XXX**

As Frank Hardy finished speaking, he rested his head against the headstone of his grandfather's grave. It wasn't quite the same as a friendly ear or a loving hug, but it gave him solace none the less.

"Thanks for listening, Gramps," Frank whispered as he closed his eyes. He felt utterly drained. He had spent the whole night talking, telling his grandfather about Joe, Mrs. Deagan and his uncontrollable anger. All he felt now was numbness.

It wasn't long before Frank drifted off to sleep. He only woke when someone shook him gently. "Frank!" he heard a voice call.

Opening his eyes, Frank gasped as he saw the figure of his father peering down at him in concern. "Are you okay, son?"

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Fenton answered quietly. "Your mother's in the car. I persuaded her to wait. We need to talk, Frank."

Frank stared at the ground. "You know."

"That you cut school yesterday? That you and Joe fought because of it? Yes, Frank, I know. What I don't know is why."

"I can't tell you."

"Okay then, why did you lie?"

"I can't tell you that either."

Fenton sighed. "Frank, whatever is bothering you is going to eat you up unless you deal with it or talk to someone about it. And don't try and tell me it's all about Joe," he added as Frank opened his mouth to argue. "This has been going on for a while now. Frank, bottling things up helps no one, least of all you."

Frank was silent.

"Come on," said Fenton, as he held out his hand. "You look frozen, let's get you home."

Frank allowed his father to pull him to his feet. "How did you know where to find me?" he asked.

"Something your mother said," answered Fenton. "About how you used to disappear as a child right before you confessed to something."

Frank was confused. "I don't get it."

Fenton smiled. "You work things out in your head, don't you? You need to explain to yourself why you did what you did before you can explain it to anyone else."

Frank was astonished. "How did you…?"

"I do the exact same thing," his father answered. "Before I talk to anyone about a case, before I explain anything, I get things straight in my own head."

Frank stared at his father. Joe was the only other person who had ever read him so clearly. "But how did you know where to find me?"

"I guessed you needed somewhere to think. Somewhere quiet, where there was no danger of being interrupted. And with everything that's happened lately, I realised you probably wanted to be somewhere you felt secure and comfortable." Fenton smiled sadly. "As a child, one of the places you were happiest was at Dad's house. You'd sit yourself in his rocking chair while he told stories."

"Things were easier then," murmured Frank. "So you knew I'd be here?"

Fenton nodded. "But you haven't sorted things out in your head, have you? That's why you're still here."

Frank didn't answer, just shivered a little.

Fenton put his arm around Frank's shoulder. "Let's get you back to the car at least, or your mother will come yelling at me for keeping you out here so long!"

As they walked out of the graveyard, Frank turned to his father and said, "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Big trouble," Fenton agreed.

"How big?"

"Put it this way, don't make any plans for the next month."

"_A month_!" exclaimed Frank incredulously.

"At least."

Frank shook his head, but he knew he deserved it.

As they exited the cemetery, Frank glimpsed his mother sitting in the car across the road. Seeing Frank, Laura got out and rushed across the road. She never saw the car come speeding around the corner.

But Fenton did.

"LAURA!" he screamed, and threw himself at his wife hurling them both out of harm's way.

The car never stopped, it merely continued it's speedy journey down the road.

"Maniac!" Frank yelled as he dashed across the road to his parents. "Mom! Dad! Are you okay?"

"Just fine," Fenton assured him sitting up. "Laura?"

"I'm okay. I feel pretty silly for not watching the road though. Sorry, Fenton."

"Don't worry about it," said Fenton, getting to his feet. Then he turned and helped his wife up.

"Frank," said his mother as she hugged him. "You had me so worried!"

"Sorry, Mom," Frank mumbled.

His mother released him and frowned. "You'd better be, young man! And you're grounded for the next month just to be sure!"

"Maybe we should discuss this at home?" Fenton interrupted them.

Frank and Laura turned to face him, and were shocked by how pale his face had suddenly become. "Fenton," Laura gasped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Fenton. "I'm fi…" His words trailed off and his face took on a pained expression.

"Dad?" said Frank, panicked.

But Fenton never answered, he just sank silently to the ground.

**XXX**

Joe awoke from a troubled sleep and shivered. He was freezing, the thin blanket on his small cot offering little respite from the bitter January chill. Sitting up, Joe moaned. He had spent the last few hours getting up to be sick. In the end, he could no longer crawl between the toilet and the cot, and so had remained on the floor shivering. When there was finally nothing left in him to throw up, Joe had dragged himself back to the small cot and collapsed onto it. He had slept fitfully, the cold and pain preventing him from resting properly.

As he glanced at the door, Joe gasped in shock. A glass of water and a packet of trail mix sat on the floor beside it.

_Where did they come from?_

Gingerly, he eased himself off the bed and moved to the door. His stomach felt too weak to even contemplate the trail mix, but his throat was burning after several hours of vomiting and Joe was desperate for a few drops of water.

Picking up the glass, he drank the water slowly and gratefully. It's icy coldness felt soothing to his raw throat.

Placing the empty glass back on the floor, Joe looked for some way to open the door, but there was nothing. The door opened just one way; from the other side. Sighing miserably, Joe made his way back to the cot. His head still ached, although he didn't feel nauseous anymore.

Curling back into a ball, Joe wondered how long it had been since the man had kidnapped him. It felt like an eternity. Were his family looking for him? Had the kidnapper contacted them? Joe had no idea.

The boy started to cry. He felt so scared and alone, and wished desperately that he was at home with his family. Joe closed his eyes as tears ran down his face; he was terrified that he'd never see his family again.

A scratching at the door made the breath catch in his throat.

"Joeeey," an eerie voice called. "Are you awake?"

Joe froze, his heart pounding.

An evil laugh drifted through the door. "I know you're awake, I can hear you cryyiinng."

Hurriedly, Joe put his hand over his mouth and tried to still his haggard breathing. There was silence for several long minutes and Joe was just starting to wonder if the man had gone when suddenly the light went out!

With a startled cry, Joe sat up.

Laughter sounded outside the door again. "What's the matter, Joey? Are you afraid of the dark?" Joe didn't answer and the man laughed again. "Rock-a-bye Joey in the tree top," he sang crazily. "When the wind blows the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come Joey, _cradle and all_!"

As he crooned vindictively, a shiver ran down Joe's back.

"Better get used to the dark, Joey boy," taunted the man gleefully, "'cause you'll never see daylight again!"

_**A/N**: Once more, thanks again for all the reviews. Keep 'em coming, I love reading them! I'll be posting three chapters in the morning, but before you get too excited I'd better mention that I'm heading off inter-railing around Europe for a month on Saturday. So that means it'll be a month before I update again (hence why I'm giving you three chappies together!)_

**Pen and Paper71**: Thanks.

**astalder27**: Now, now, I can't tell you what the kidnapper wants, that would spoil the story! And Frank had to learn the hard way not to take the people he loves for granted, hence why it took time for him to pick Joe.

**The Silent Rumble**: The story's fully written so I can't go changing things now! But don't worry, there's a little Frank angst in there!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Frank and Laura waited anxiously in the waiting room of Bayport General for news on Fenton.

After he had collapsed, Laura had used Fenton's cell phone to call the paramedics, then followed the ambulance in the car. Neither Laura or Frank had spoken during the mad dash to the hospital.

The waiting was starting to unnerve Frank. "I'm going to get a soda," he said, standing abruptly and startling his mother. "Do you want anything?"

Laura shook her head. "Frank, are you alright, honey?"

"Fine," he mumbled as he walked away.

Frank headed to the hospital canteen, oblivious to the people around him. It was a path he knew very well; the Hardys had spent a lot of time there during the weeks Fenton had been hospitalised.

As he took a soda from the fridge, he decided to get his mother a coffee as well. He had been rather short with her in the waiting room. Frank paid hurriedly for his purchases then turned to go. However, he spun so quickly that he collided with the person behind him, spilling the coffee in his hands and knocking the tray out of the other person's hands.

"I'm sorry," he apologised immediately, bending down to begin clearing away the mess.

"Don't worry about it," said a soft voice and Frank glanced up at the person he had bumped in to. It was a teenage girl, several years older than him. She was very pretty with long blonde hair and startling green eyes.

Frank blushed and quickly lowered his head as he finished clearing up the mess. When he was finished, Frank stood up. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Can I at least replace that?"

"I hadn't paid for it yet," the girl smiled charmingly. "Besides, I'm not really that hungry. I was only getting it for the sake of something to do. Break the monotony, you know?"

Frank nodded. He knew only too well.

"You can make it up to me by keeping me company while I have some coffee though," the girl said. "I could use the company."

"Okay," Frank agreed. It would give him something to do too. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll get the coffee."

"Okay, thank you," the girl smiled prettily and made her way to the nearest table. Quickly, Frank paid for two coffees and followed after her.

"My name is Annie Holloway, by the way," said the girl as Frank sat down.

"I'm Frank Hardy."

"Hardy?" Annie wrinkled her forehead. "Your name is awfully familiar."

Frank sighed. "My dad is Fenton Hardy."

"Who?" The girl looked confused.

Frank was surprised. "He's a detective and he's pretty well known. I thought that might be why my name was familiar."

"I've never heard of him," Annie admitted. "That's not why…wait! Hardy? That's the name of that kid who went missing yesterday afternoon!"

Frank felt his stomach lurch. "That's my brother," he told her, staring at the table.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

"It's not your fault," Frank replied.

"Is that why you're here?" she asked. "Have they found your brother?"

Frank shook his head. "No. My dad's collapsed."

"I'm sorry," Annie repeated. "I didn't mean to pry."

Frank shrugged. "You weren't to know."

"Want to talk about it?"

Frank glanced at the girl's kind face. There was no morbid curiosity there, merely gentle concern. Suddenly, Frank found himself telling her everything about his grandfather and his father's shooting and the anger that led up to his argument with Joe.

Annie didn't speak until Frank was finished. "Sounds to me like you've had a rough time of it." Frank nodded. "But that's no excuse to take it out on the people who care about you."

Frank was shocked. It was the last response he had expected.

Annie shook her head at his reaction. "Frank, just because life hands you a few bad turns is no reason to shut it out. We all get knocked down sometimes, but what matters is that we get back up."

"There's only so many times a person can get back up, Annie," said Frank.

"That's self-pitying rubbish," said Annie firmly.

Frank felt himself getting angry. "Yeah? Well let's see you staying so positive when you've been through what I've been through!"

Annie ignored Frank's rudeness. "I don't know if it's occurred to you, Frank, but there's a reason I'm in the hospital as well. Someone important to me is sick too."

Frank closed his mouth, ashamed. "Who?"

"My Gran. The doctors don't think she'll make it," said Annie softly.

"She could still pull through," Frank pointed out, trying to make the girl feel better.

Annie smiled sadly. "I know, but I'll still have to say good bye to her at some point. You see, Frank, I'm dying. I have cancer. "

Frank was shocked. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Annie shrugged. "Don't be. I've fitted more into life in the last few months than I have over the last seventeen years. I know better than anyone how short life is, but I've used that knowledge to really live while I have the chance."

Annie's reasoning slowly trickled into Frank's brain. He realised he had been pushing away the people he cared about because he was afraid of being hurt, afraid of losing them. After his grandfather had died, Frank had discovered just how painful that loss could be.

Annie saw the understanding cross Frank's face and smiled. "Frank, everyone dies at some point, but it doesn't mean life stops."

Frank stared her. "How'd you get to be so smart?"

Annie grinned mischievously. "I read a lot of fortune cookies," she told him and Frank couldn't help but laugh.

"I'd better be getting back, Frank," said Annie. "My parents will be wondering where I am."

Frank stood up. "Can I walk you back?"

Annie smiled. "Of course."

The two teenagers walked quietly down the hospital corridor. It wasn't long before Annie said, "this is my gran's room."

Frank stopped up. "Annie, thank you."

"Don't mention it," she smiled. "You take care, Frank, and remember what I said."

"I will," he promised.

As Annie pushed open the door and entered the room, Frank stared after her. The brave teenager had given him a lot to think about. He was still staring as the door swung closed, and caught a glimpse of an old lady lying in a bed.

Frank felt a sudden shock of recognition.

_The old woman was Mrs. Deagan!_

**XXX**

"Mrs. Hardy?" the voice broke into Laura's troubled thoughts and she looked up.

"Doctor Kennedy!" she exclaimed, recognising the doctor who had treated Fenton after he had been shot. "How are you?"

"Just fine, thank you," smiled the cheerful young doctor. "And so is Fenton."

"You've been examining him?" said Laura, on her feet at once.

"Of course," he grinned. "When I saw his name show up in the ER, I thought I'd better see what he'd been up to this time."

"Will he be alright?" asked Laura.

"He will so long as he rests," said the doctor seriously.

"What happened?"

"A small tear in the damaged tissue of his lung started to haemorrhage. We've stopped the bleeding and repaired the tear. Now, don't panic," he added, seeing Laura's panicked expression. "It's not as serious as it sounds, it just means Fenton over-exerted himself. And I've already had a talk with him about that. We're going to keep him in for a few days, just for observation, but you can go in and see him now if you want."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Laura gratefully, then looked around. "You haven't seen Frank, have you? He went to the canteen nearly an hour ago and I haven't seen him since."

"No, I haven't. Do you want me to page him?"

Laura shook her head. "No, that would only scare him, make him think something was really wrong. He'll wander back at some point."

Doctor Kennedy nodded. "So where's Joe? Is he at home?"

Laura swallowed painfully. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Joe's missing," she whispered. "He was kidnapped sometime yesterday afternoon."

The doctor was shocked. "God, I'm sorry. I had no idea! No wonder Fenton's been over-exerting himself."

Laura nodded heavily. "I think I'll go see Fenton now. If you see Frank, will you tell him where I've gone?"

"Of course," said the doctor gently. "Fenton's room is the fourth door down the corridor on the left."

"Thank you, Doctor" said Laura.

As she walked down the hall, Laura saw Frank coming towards her. His face was pale and grim, and Laura wondered what had happened.

"Frank?" she said as he drew level with her. "Are you okay?"

Frank shook his head. "Not really. How's Dad?"

"He's going to be fine," said Laura, and briefly filled Frank in on what the doctor had said. "I'm just going to see him now, are you coming?"

Frank nodded and followed his mother down the hall and into his father's room.

They entered the room to find Fenton Hardy sitting up in the bed looking pale-faced and sheepish.

"Fenton," said Laura, bending to kiss her husband. "How do you feel?"

"Sore," he admitted. "Sorry for scaring you both."

"It's my fault for not watching the car," said Laura regretfully. "Your pushing me out of the way probably caused the tear."

"Well, at least I know now why the Doctor warned me to rest," grinned Fenton. "Any news from home?" he added hopefully.

"Nothing," Laura whispered, her eyes brimming. "I rang Gertrude ten minutes ago. The police haven't turned up anything else."

Fenton's face fell and he sighed heavily. "So we have no choice but to wait."

Tears began to slip down Laura's face. "Surely there must be something we can do?"

Fenton shook his head wearily. "Every police officer in Bayport is looking for Joe. There's nothing we _can_ do until the kidnapper calls."

Laura sat down heavily. "I hope he's alright," she said softly, voicing what they all thought.

The Hardys sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own painful thoughts. Finally, Fenton spoke. "You two had better go home," he said. "Frank, you haven't been to bed and you both need to eat."

"We can eat here," Laura protested.

"But Frank needs to rest," Fenton objected. "You should take him home."

Laura glanced at her eldest son who stared miserably back at her. Right in that moment, Frank and his mother understood each other better than they ever had in their lives. "I think," said Laura softly, "that it won't feel much like home until Joe is back safe."

"Someone needs to watch the phone," Fenton reminded her gently.

"Aunt Gertrude could," countered Frank.

Fenton looked at the tired, pale faces of his wife and eldest son. He hated to have to do this, but he needed to remind them of the one thing they seemed not to have thought of. "And what if the kidnapper puts Joe on?" he asked quietly. "Don't you think he'd want to speak to one of us?"

Frank and Laura looked at him, stricken. The thought hadn't even occurred to them.

"I'll take Frank home," Laura whispered. "We can both get some rest and something to eat, then one of us can come back later."

Laura stood up to leave.

"Wait," said Frank, and his voice wavered. Both his parents looked at him. "I need to talk to you both."

Fenton frowned at Frank. "Frank, we already know you skipped school yesterday. When we find…when things return to normal, we can talk about it and decide your punishment."

"This can't wait," said Frank softly, staring at his knotted hands. His talk with Annie, and the discovery that her grandmother was Mrs. Deagan, made him realise that he needed to tell his parents everything. He knew something this big couldn't remain hidden. Somebody might have seen something or Mrs. Deagan might wake up. Either way, Frank knew it was best that they found out sooner rather than later, and that they found out from him.

Frank took a deep breath. He wasn't worried about getting into trouble; he was tired of hiding and tired of being scared. What bothered Frank was that telling his parents meant disappointing and upsetting them when they were most vulnerable.

_When Joe is missing._

Frank swallowed painfully. Both his parents were looking at him expectantly.

Lowering his eyes, Frank told them about skipping school with Paul and the others, about meeting Joe and the fight that followed. Finally he got to the part about Mrs. Deagan. Frank kept his eyes on the floor as he explained what had happened; he couldn't bear to see the expression on their faces.

When he finished his story, Frank remained staring at the floor while silence filled the room.

It was several minutes before anyone spoke. When someone finally did, it was his mother. "Frank," she whispered. "How could you?"

Frank winced at the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said looking up. "But they didn't give me a choice."

Frank turned his face to his father. Instead of the disappointment he expected to see there, Frank saw something else in his father's eyes. But he couldn't determine what, his father's expression was inscrutable.

"What do we do now?" asked Laura, her voice heavy.

Fenton looked at Frank sadly. "I'm afraid we have no choice, we need to call Con Riley."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was a long day for the Hardy family.

After Laura had called the police, Con Riley arrived with Chief Collig. They questioned Frank heavily about what had happened the day before and by the time they were finished, the boy's head was throbbing dizzily.

"What will happen to Frank?" asked Laura, as the officers got ready to leave.

"Well, considering he is a minor and he didn't actually touch Mrs. Deagan, and taking into account the fact that he came to us, I'm guessing Frank will probably get nothing more than a few hours community service," answered Con. "But Frank really needs to stay away from those other boys now."

"Not gonna be a problem," Frank muttered, thinking about his conversation with Paul the night before.

Chief Collig sighed. "We'll talk to the other boys next. Frank, stay out of trouble."

Con winced at the chief's words. He never thought they would have to address one of Fenton Hardy's boys in this way.

As the police left, Laura turned to Fenton and said, "I'm just going to give Gertrude a quick call and let her know we'll be home soon."

Fenton waited until Laura had left the room before addressing his son. "Frank, I'm very disappointed, I thought you knew better than this."

"I do," said Frank in a small voice.

"Then why do it?"

"I didn't," said Frank. "Ryan did."

"But you allowed it to happen, how could you stand there while he…"

"I didn't _allow_ it to happen!" Frank cut in furiously. "I froze for a couple of seconds and Ryan…reacted."

His father was silent.

"Dad, don't you think I feel bad enough?" he pleaded softly.

"I don't know, Frank," said his father sadly. "You've been such a stranger lately."

"I know," Frank agreed miserably. "But I was just so afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" asked Fenton confused.

Frank didn't answer, he didn't know how. He knew how he felt in his head but voicing his feelings was an altogether different matter.

"Frank?" Fenton pressed. "What were you afraid of?"

Frank looked away. "Of losing you."

"Me?" Fenton was shocked.

Frank nodded, pain rising sharply in his chest as the emotions he had been keeping in for so long came spilling out. "You, Mom…Joe." Frank's voice broke a little at his brother's name. "After Gramps died, it made me realise how quickly anyone could be taken and how suddenly. It scared me."

"So you shut us out," said Fenton gently. "Pushed us away so you wouldn't feel the loss so bad if it came."

"It didn't really work though," whispered Frank.

"I got shot," guessed Fenton. "And you didn't understand why it still hurt so you got mad."

Frank nodded. His chest hurt so badly he could no longer speak.

"Frank, people die. You can't hide away from life just because it scares you."

"I know," said Frank hoarsely, and told his father about meeting Annie in the hospital canteen.

_So that was the catalyst_, thought Fenton. "Frank, why didn't you talk to your mother or me?" he asked. "Didn't you think we'd understand?"

Frank dropped his eyes. "I couldn't talk to you."

"Why not? I know we don't exactly remember what it's like to be thirteen but we do understand how confusing things can be at that age."

"That's not the reason," Frank muttered.

"What then?" asked his father. "Frank, I'd like to think that you can come to me about anything."

"Because you expect me to be perfect!" Frank burst out. "And I'm not! I can't be!"

Fenton was startled. "Frank, no one expects you to be perfect. All we want is for you to be happy!"

"But I disappointed you today," said Frank. "You said so."

"But that doesn't mean I expect you to be perfect," said Fenton. "You're human, Frank, you're going to make mistakes. We all do. How else do you think we learn?"

Frank stared at his father and Fenton reached out and grasped his hand. "Frank, I'm disappointed in your actions, not you. If anything, I'm a little proud of you for confessing the way you did. That can't have been easy."

"I'm sorry," said Frank shakily.

"I know," said Fenton, as Frank put his head on the bed and cried. "I know."

Frank cried until all the pent up frustration and anger, the hurt and confusion were gone, leaving only a numb calm in their place.

"Feel better?" asked Fenton as Frank wiped his eyes.

"Yeah," mumbled Frank. He felt a little embarrassed at his emotional outburst.

Fenton smiled at Frank as the door opened and in walked Laura followed closely by Sam Radley. "Look who I met wandering the halls," she announced with the ghost of a smile.

"Sam!" said Fenton, his face brightening.

"Glad to see you're okay," said Sam. "Maybe this will teach you not to throw yourself in front of moving vehicles again. You're not Superman you know!"

As Fenton laughed, Laura glanced at Frank. His eyes were red and she could tell he had been crying, but he looked so much calmer and so much more like his old self than he had done in months that she decided not to comment. "Frank, honey. Sam is going to stay with your dad for a few hours while we head home."

Frank nodded. He was completely spent, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"I'll call you later," said Laura as she kissed her husband. "Try and get some rest."

"I will," he promised. "And ring the second you get any news, okay?" Laura nodded.

Frank gave his father a quick hug. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered.

"That's what dads are for," his father returned, as he hugged him back.

"Ethel is heading over to your house," Sam told them. "She's going to spend the night." Sam had married Ethel two years before, and she had become as firm a friend to the Hardys as he was.

Laura squeezed Sam's arm gratefully. Nodding good-bye, Laura and Frank left the room. Sam waited for several seconds after they had closed the door before turning to Fenton. "So how are you really?" he asked.

"Crap," Fenton responded. "Why's Ethel staying at our place tonight?"

"I thought she might be company for Laura," said Sam nonchalantly.

"And?" said Fenton, eyeing Sam suspiciously.

Sam sighed. "Fenton, have you heard from the kidnapper yet?"

"No," he admitted.

"Then you know what that means, right?" asked Sam gently.

Fenton felt his heart wrench. "He's not looking for ransom, he's out for revenge."

Sam nodded. "So Ethel thought it would be a good idea if she stayed, just to keep things calm while you're in here."

"Maybe I should put someone on the house," Fenton fretted. "Just in case."

"It's already been done," Sam told him. "I went to the station first thing when I arrived in Bayport and talked to Chief Collig. He's putting a watch on the house."

Fenton closed his eyes and growled in frustration. "Sam, do you have any idea how useless I feel lying here in this bed? My son is missing and I can't search for him. I can't even protect the rest of my family!"

"You can help in other ways," said Sam firmly. "You can dig through all your old files for anyone that might have a grudge against you. I'm going to ask around and see if anyone you put away has been released or paroled recently."

"Okay," said Fenton, his frustration lessening at the thought of being able to do something. "Can you get me my files?"

"I'll drop over your files first thing in the morning. For tonight, you need to get some rest and recover your strength."

"Sam, I don't have _time_ to rest! Joe's been missing for over twenty four hours now and all we've done is chase our own tails!"

"You're no good to Joe if you collapse again and end up back here. Fenton, I know it's frustrating, but you need to take it easy."

Fenton grumbled under his breath.

Sam sighed. "Fenton, if it makes you feel any better, I'll be here _very_ early in the morning."

"Okay." Fenton was quiet for several minutes, then asked Sam the question that had been plaguing him all day. "Sam, do you think Joe is still alive?"

"Yes," Sam answered at once.

"Why?"

Sam hesitated. "Because the kidnapper hasn't had the chance to torment you yet," he said finally.

**XXX**

Joe shivered beneath the blanket in his cell. He had been in darkness for hours now. At first he had tried to ignore the suffocating black that wrapped itself around him, but as time wore on he found himself becoming increasingly hysterical at the possible threats that could come crawling unseen out of the darkness.

He was starving and knew there was a packet of trail mix near the door, but blind terror prevented him from getting off the cot to search for it. Huddled beneath the blanket, Joe tried to reassure himself that there were no such things as monsters.

He was exhausted, but fear and cold refused to let him sleep. As tears rolled down his face, Joe stifled his sobs. The only thing worse than being alone in this black jail cell was to have his jailer return. There was something in that man's voice that sent cold knives of fear through Joe's heart.

The hours continued to drag on, Just as the boy was starting to drift off into a restless doze, the sound of loud music blared through the door. It was eerie, shrill music; the sort that sounded like nails on a blackboard and sent shivers down one's spine. Joe covered his ears against the horrible noise but the volume increased.

After more than an hour of listening to the terrible wailing, Joe's jangled nerves finally snapped. Throwing off the blanket, he sat up and yelled, "Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it OFF!"

The only response was an increase in the volume of the music to the point that it reverberated through his cell and bounced off its walls, the sound of which nearly drove Joe mad in his terror.

Ignoring his fear of groping hands in the dark, Joe climbed off the cot and stumbled to the door. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he screamed, thumping his fists against the door. "WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

The music was clicked off and silence fell once more.

"Please," Joe begged as he banged against the door. "I want to go home!" There was no answer. "Please," Joe whimpered, as he slid to the floor, his hand now feebly pummelling the door. "Please, I want to go home!"

Joe's whimpers dissolved into sobs in the echoing dark.

**XXX**

The man heard the desperate crying on the other side of the door and smiled to himself gleefully.

The child was starting to crack!

_About time_, he thought as he switched off the tape recorder. He had expected Joe to start screaming hours ago.

As the quiet sobbing continued, the man chuckled cruelly. When he was finished, the boy would know what madness felt like.

_I will break you! _he vowed silently.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The next morning, Frank awoke to a lot of yelling and shouting. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. It was nearly nine am.

As he got out of bed Frank wondered what was going on. It had been late when he and his mother had gone to bed the night before, and he knew she had slept as badly as he did because he had heard her sobbing into her pillow when he had got up to use the bathroom during the night.

Cautiously, Frank opened his bedroom door and headed for the stairs. The yelling seemed to be coming from the hall. Halfway down the stairs, Frank peered over the banister and got a shock.

His mother, her face contorted in anger, was yelling into the phone. Ethel Radley and his Aunt Gertrude stood beside her making consoling gestures as if to calm her down.

But Laura Hardy was having none of it.

"I couldn't give a crap about your livelihood!" she yelled at whoever was on the other end of the phone. "What I care about is my family! And right now, they're going through enough without your _muck-rag _adding to that!"

It was then Frank caught sight of the paper on the hall table. Moving quietly down the stairs, he picked it up and glanced at it. His mouth fell open in shock.

Splashed across the front page was the headline; FENTON'S SON RUNS RIOT. Beneath it was a picture of Frank in Con's patrol car, his hands over his face. Quickly, Frank scanned the article. It was about how Frank and some school friends had cut school, then beat up an old woman. The article was sensationalised and Frank was the only one mentioned by name.

"You just listen here to me, you little snake," Laura Hardy spat venomously into the phone. "If there isn't a front page retraction in this evening's paper, you can expect a phone call from our lawyer! I'm sure you've heard of the word 'slander'?"

Laura scowled and listened for several seconds, then snorted. "No! I _don't_ think that's being a little hasty! Do you even bother to check your facts before printing? What kind of a newspaper are you?"

Just then Laura caught sight of Frank standing frozen in the hall and her expression switched from anger to worry. "I don't want to hear it," she said firmly into the phone. "Your excuses don't interest me. Print that retraction or else."

Laura hung up the phone and started towards Frank. "Honey, are you okay?"

Frank stared blankly at her. "They make it sound like I did it!"

"But we know you didn't," Laura consoled him. "And after they print that retraction tonight, everyone else will know too."

Frank wasn't reassured. "What if they don't print it?"

"Oh, they'll print it, believe me," said Laura grimly.

"Let's not think about it," interrupted Ethel gently. "Come on, Frank. I've made you some breakfast."

Frank followed Ethel and Gertrude into the kitchen. He could hear his mother picking up the phone to make another call and strained his ears to listen. But Ethel saw him and quickly closed the door. "Eggs scrambled or fried, Frank?" she asked pointedly.

Frank sighed. "Scrambled, please."

**XXX**

The day passed with an agonizing slowness for the Hardys. The phone rang non-stop; friends calling to enquire about Fenton and Joe, newspapers to ask about Frank and Joe.

But no word from Joe or his kidnapper.

Around late afternoon, Fenton Hardy arrived home with Sam Radley, having discharged himself from the hospital against the doctor's wishes. Frank disappeared onto the front porch to avoid the argument that followed when Laura discovered that piece of information.

As Frank sat on the porch swing, rocking back and forth, his thoughts turned to his brother. He wondered where Joe was, and if he was scared or hurt.

_Please be okay, Joe. Please come home safe._

"Frank?" the voice interrupted his troubled thoughts and Frank looked up. He was surprised to see Chet Morton standing there.

"Hi, Chet. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," his friend responded sitting beside Frank on the swing. "I heard about Joe."

"Who hasn't?" Frank muttered.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can find Joe."

Chet fell silent and Frank turned to him. "Why are you here, Chet?"

Chet looked offended. "I came to offer support to a friend in need. We might not have spent much time together lately, but you're still my oldest friend."

Frank looked at him guiltily. When he and Chet had started Junior High in September, Frank had been dismayed at first to discover that they didn't have a single class together. But then he had met Paul and he had sort of forgotten about Chet. "Chet, I'm sorry. I've been a real jerk lately."

"No, you haven't…well, yeah you have actually. But that's okay, we all have bad days. I wasn't the nicest person in the world the summer before last when I broke my leg!"

Frank laughed. "I don't think you quite reached my level of 'jerk,' but thanks for understanding."

"Hey, that's what friends are for!" Chet's expression sobered. "Frank, what was the deal with that story in the _Bayport Tribune _this morning?"

Frank grimaced and told Chet what had happened. When he was finished, Chet shook his head. "Figures, I knew it was something to do with Ryan Aston."

"You did?" said Frank surprised.

"Of course." Chet shrugged. "Frank, everybody in school knows it was Ryan Aston and that the papers just picked on you because you're Fenton Hardy's son. Which really sucks 'cause you guys have enough to worry about at the moment."

Frank didn't answer.

"Has the kidnapper contacted you yet?" asked Chet softly and Frank shook his head in frustration.

"No. And it's been nearly forty eight hours now! I don't know what this guy is playing at!" Frank gulped and shot Chet a terrified look. "I'm just so afraid that he won't contact us and we'll never see Joe again!"

Chet didn't know what to say. Instead he patted Frank awkwardly on the arm.

"Chester Morton?" Both boys turned to see Aunt Gertrude standing in the front door. She had come to see where Frank was. "Well, this is a nice surprise. I haven't seen you in quite some time, young man. I was beginning to think you didn't like my pie anymore!"

Chet chuckled. "That's not possible, Aunt Gertrude. You make the best pie in Bayport!"

"Only in Bayport?" she teased.

"Well, I'm afraid my culinary expertise doesn't extend beyond Bayport limits yet!" Chet retorted mischievously. "And I think I might be starting to forget what your pie tastes like, it's been so long since I had a piece!"

Gertrude laughed. "Well, that's definitely a hint if ever I've heard one. Come on, let's get you a piece of pie."

As the boys followed Gertrude into the kitchen, Frank heard the raised voices of his parents coming from the living room and winced. "Is Mom still mad at Dad?" he asked.

His aunt glanced at him. "Yes, Frank. It was a very foolish thing to have released himself against doctor's orders." Frank sat down beside Chet at the kitchen table. He hoped his father wouldn't collapse again.

Gertrude seemed to guess a little of what he was thinking. As she placed a piece of pie in front of Frank and Chet, she said quietly, "Frank, don't worry. Fenton's promised to rest. He won't get sick again."

Frank nodded. He fervently hoped she was right.

**XXX**

Fenton placed the papers he was reading on his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Laura had finally agreed to letting him stay at home, but only if he promised not to overdo it.

"I'm not sure how many more scares I can take," she had told him softly.

Fenton swallowed guiltily at the memory. He hated upsetting his wife, but this wasn't about her. It wasn't even about him.

It was about Joe.

Fenton ran a hand through his hair in frustration and glanced out the window into the gathering dusk. There had been no word from the kidnapper or Joe, and the waiting was starting to shred the Hardy family's nerves. The torture of not knowing was far worse than any call from a kidnapper.

A knock sounded at the door of his study. "Come in!" Fenton called as he looked up. The door opened and Sam Radley edged into the room.

"Hi, Fenton," he greeted him.

"Sam! Come in, sit down."

Sam closed the door and dropped into the chair in front of Fenton's desk. "I see Laura got her retraction printed," he said, holding out the evening edition of the _Bayport Tribune_. "I bet the _Gazette_ wouldn't have printed that rubbish!"

Fenton took the paper. Under a less sensationalised headline was an article apologising to the Hardy family and explaining what had really happened. It also mentioned why Frank had been in the patrol car and expressed a wish for Joe's speedy return towards the end.

"Laura really put the fear of God into them, didn't she?" said Sam, with some satisfaction. "Serves them right."

Fenton nodded. "Did you turn up anything?" he asked.

"Not yet, but I'm still looking."

Fenton buried his head in his hands. "This isn't good, Sam. The kidnapper hasn't contacted us and we've found no indication that the kidnapping is in any way connected to me. Either this guy is the most patient person in the world or we're looking at a random kidnapping! If that's the case, we might never see Joe again!" Fenton choked a little.

"No way!" Sam told him. "It has to be related. We just haven't found our link yet."

"What if we don't find one?" asked Fenton. "The police have found nothing. And it's been over forty-eight hours now, with no word from the kidnapper or Joe. Unless something turns up soon it might be too late!"

Just then, Sam's cell phone rang loudly. He glanced at the number. "Sorry, Fenton, I have to take this."

Fenton nodded and turned to look out the window as Sam answered the phone.

"Hello?…..Yes, it is…..That's right…..What! When?…..But why wasn't I told earlier…..I see…..Well, thanks for calling. I really appreciate it."

Sam hung up and Fenton glanced back at him. Sam looked disturbed.

"Something wrong?" Fenton asked.

"Yes and no," said Sam. "We've found our link…"

"What? Where?" exclaimed Fenton, springing from his chair.

"It's not exactly a 'where,' it's a 'who.' And his name is James Moore."

**XXX**

A loud wailing tore Joe from his sleep and he groaned.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had been playing the screaming music on and off all day, meaning that the boy had no sooner fallen into a restless doze than he was jerked awake.

The God-awful pain in his head had returned with a vengeance and Joe was desperate for some sleep, if only to escape this waking nightmare. Gritting his teeth, Joe pulled the meagre blanket over his head and tried to block out the noise.

_Go away! Please, go away! _he begged silently.

The child shivered. He ached with cold, and the only thing his body craved more than sleep was heat. Joe had never thought it was possible to feel so cold. His whole body was frozen and he found it difficult to move.

Suddenly, the music was switched off and Joe sat up terrified. Usually the man left the music on for at least an hour, why was it being switched off so abruptly now? Joe sat waiting breathlessly in the dark.

"Joeeeey!" the voice called. "What cha' doing? Are you crying for Mommy and Daddy?"

Joe clenched his fists at the sound of that hateful voice, but didn't answer. He was too afraid.

The voice laughed softly, sending shivers down Joe's back. "You're not very good at making conversation, are you, Joey? Maybe it's the dark that's keeping you quiet?"

Light flooded the room suddenly and Joe cried out, shielding his eyes from the dazzling brightness. The boy didn't know it, but he had been in darkness for more than twenty-four hours now and this sudden light hurt his eyes.

"Now who's good to you, Joey?" the evil voice continued, as Joe crouched forward and put his watering eyes against the mattress. "I put the light back on, and I've even left you a present! Go on, look and see!"

It was several minutes before Joe could drag his eyes from the mattress and look towards the door. On the floor beside the trail mix was another glass of water and his jacket! Quickly he eased his stiff body from the cot and hurried over to the door.

As he snatched up his jacket, something black and furry fell out, squeaking as it hit the floor.

_A rat!_

Joe screamed in terror and jumped back, while the man on the other side of the door laughed uproariously. "Trick-or-treat, Joey! Trick-or-treat!" he taunted. "Don't you like your present?"

Shaking with fright and shock, Joe saw that the rat was only a toy. Trembling, he sank heavily onto the cot. The cruel prank had frightened him terribly.

"You still haven't thanked me for my present," the man told him. "That's rude, Joey, very rude. I thought Fenton raised you better?"

Joe didn't answer and the man continued. "You might want to improve your manners, Joey, or I'll have to teach you some. How would you like it if I put a real rat in there with you in the dark?"

The light went out again and Joe heard the man's footsteps walking away, leaving him alone in the dark once more.

Still shaking, Joe put on his coat and his hand groped in the dark for the glass of water and the trail mix. He was starving. His hand brushed the toy rat and Joe shuddered, quickly withdrawing his hand.

_It's not real_, he reminded himself as he continued to grope for the water and the trail mix. Finally his hand closed around them. Slowly and carefully, Joe brought his pathetic meal back to the cot where he sat in the darkness eating it.

He wondered if the man had contacted his family yet; it hadn't escaped Joe's notice that the man knew who his father was.

Stomach growling, Joe finished the trail mix and drank the water. His coat offered a little more protection against the cold and he rubbed his arms in the hope of warming himself some more. He wondered if it was night or day; Joe had lost all concept of time in this black room.

Sighing miserably, the boy lay back down and wished for the millionth time that he was back home with his family. As his eyes closed, Joe hoped that the man wouldn't come back.

He was desperate for some sleep.

_**A/N:** Okay, there they were, 3 chapters as promised...hope you enjoyed them! I'll be back from my travels in a month and I'll post the rest of the story then!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Fenton stared at Sam. "James Moore? But he's serving a life sentence for murder in Phoenix!"

Sam shook his head. "He was attacked by an inmate five days ago and brought to the hospital for stitches. He escaped from the officer guarding him."

Fenton pressed his fingers against his temples. "How the hell does a sadistic serial killer get taken to a public hospital under _one_ guard instead of the prison infirmary?"

"Apparently the prison doctor had gone home for the night and they could only spare one guard for the trip to the hospital. Damn budget cuts," Sam muttered.

"If he escaped then he couldn't have been too badly hurt," said Fenton. "Surely they could have waited until morning for the prison doctor rather than take that risk?"

"That would have been an infringement of his _human rights_!" Sam spat bitterly. "Like the people he killed didn't have their rights violated!"

Fenton gritted his teeth. Arguing about it now wasn't going to turn back time. "Have they picked up any trail on him?"

"Nothing yet. But we know he came here so maybe we can trace him that way."

"We have no proof that he's the one who has Joe," argued Fenton, praying that his son wasn't in the hands of this lunatic.

"Fenton, he swore revenge on you in front of a courtroom full of people," Sam pointed out quietly.

"But he's a wanted man," said Fenton desperately. "How could he have made it here without being seen?"

"He avoided capture for five years until you came on the scene," Sam reminded him. "This guy is good at disappearing."

Fenton sighed heavily. "I'd better give his picture to the Bayport police."

"I'll do it," Sam offered.

"Thanks, Sam. I suppose I'd better let Laura know about Moore." Fenton swallowed. It was one conversation he was not looking forward to having with his wife.

**XXX**

Frank was watching TV and trying to ignore the fact that his father had emerged grim-faced from his study and called his mother in to talk. It could only be about Joe and judging by Fenton's expression, the news wasn't good.

The phone beside him rang suddenly and Frank jumped. He then reached over and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Frank?"

"Yes."

"It's Tony."

"Oh, hi, Tony," said Frank, surprised.

"Sorry to call so late," Tony told him.

"That's okay. What's up?"

"I just wanted to thank you for the loan of those books, they were a big help."

"You're welcome," Frank told him.

"Also you haven't been in for the last few days, so…" Tony hesitated than added. "I'm sorry about your brother."

Frank winced. He was getting very tired of hearing that; it made it sound as though Joe were dead. "Okay," he mumbled.

Tony hurried on. "Tomorrow's Saturday, and me and my folks are heading out of town for the weekend, but I wanted to give you back your books before I go, just in case you need them."

"It's okay, there's no rush on them."

"No, I'd rather return them," said Tony. "The thing is, we're going really early in the morning. But we're driving by your house, so I was thinking what if I put the books in the mailbox?"

"If you want," said Frank. "But don't go out of your way."

"No, we really are passing your house. Want me to leave the books?"

"Okay. Thanks, Tony."

"It's the least I can do. Will you be back at school on Monday?"

Frank hadn't thought about it. "I don't know," he answered. "Probably."

"Well, I'll talk to you then," Tony told him. "And Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope they find Joe."

Frank swallowed. "Thanks, Tony. See you Monday."

"Okay, bye."

Frank hung up. The last few days had been such a nightmare that he'd completely forgotten tomorrow was Saturday. Was it really only three nights ago that Joe had asked him to go to the movies? Frank wished he'd said yes.

Turning back to the TV, Frank tried to distract himself once more. But it didn't work, all he could think about was Joe.

**XXX**

The next morning, after breakfast, Frank went out to the mailbox and found his books alongside a 'thank you' note from Tony. There was also an envelope with his name on it. Frank opened it and found a tape inside. There was a note attached; _hope you like the music_.

Heading into the house, Frank wondered what the tape was. Tony hadn't mentioned anything about a tape.

His father met him at the top of the stairs. "Hey, Frank. What have you there?"

"Just some stuff Tony dropped over," answered Frank as he headed for his bedroom. "How are you feeling this morning, Dad?"

"Better," his father answered, following him into his room. Frank raised his eyebrows; his father still looked pale and haggard.

Fenton laughed at his son's scepticism. "I do, Frank, really. It's just that when you get to my age, lack of sleep tends to show."

Frank grinned as he slipped the tape into the tape deck. "I'll bet. Guess old age had to catch up with you sometime, Dad!"

"I'll have you know I'm in the prime of my years!" his father rejoined, pleased to see Frank more like his old self, despite everything that was happening.

"Sure, Dad. Just keep telling yourself that," said Frank as he hit play. A dreadful, shrill music filled the room and Frank clamped his hands over his ears.

"Good grief!" his father exclaimed. "Is that what teenagers listen to nowadays? Gertrude _is_ right, that's not music that's just noise!"

"No way!" said Frank indignantly. "I wouldn't listen to this! I can't believe Tony thought I would actually like this." Frank reached over to turn off the music but froze as he heard a voice yelling over the music, "Turn it off! Turn it off! Turn it OFF!"

Frank blinked as the music got louder. For a second, he thought that was Joe's voice. He turned to his father in confusion and noted his father's horrified expression. Frank was about to ask his father what was wrong when heavy pounding sounded over the music. Quickly Frank returned his attention to the tape. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he heard Joe's voice scream. "WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

Suddenly the music stopped and Frank could hear his brother's voice begging, "please, I want to go home!" The pounding lessened and Joe's voice whimpered once more, "please, I want to go home," followed by desperate sobbing.

Frank's heart broke and he turned to his father who was standing rigid with shock.

His brother's cries stopped, and Frank heard a harsh voice on the tape. "Well, Frankie boy, how did you like my music? Pretty entertaining, wasn't it?" Frank's blood froze as the voice laughed and the taunts continued. "You wished you didn't have a brother and I granted that wish. How does it feel to have your wish granted, Frankie? How does it feel to know you're responsible for this?" Evil laughter filled the room and then the tape clicked off.

**XXX**

Joe was woken once more by the awful, shrill music he had grown to dread. Squeezing his eyes tight, Joe tried to pretend it was all a nightmare and he would wake up back in his own bed. But it wasn't so.

The music continued and Joe sat up wearily, resigned to the fact that he would have to listen to this noise until his kidnapper got bored.

_Doesn't he ever sleep? _Joe wondered. His own body was craving sleep, proper sleep; the type this music was depriving him of.

The boy could hear laughing on the other side of the door and shivered. This was going to be one of those times when his kidnapper spoke. As if reading his mind, the man turned off the music and addressed him.

"How's my little Joey doing today?"

Joe pulled his knees up to his chest and stared into the darkness. He would never let anyone call him Joey again after this. Never.

The man laughed. "Not too talkative again today, I see. But that doesn't matter, I'm feeling chatty enough for the two of us."

Joe put his head against his knees. _Oh, just go away! _he thought, exhausted.

"Do you know where I was this morning?" the man asked him. "I was in Bayport, at the house on the corner of Elm and High!" Joe's head shot up and his heart wrenched at the thought of home.

"Do you want to know what I was doing the there?" the man continued gleefully. "I was delivering a package to your brother!"

Joe jumped off the bed, stumbling in the darkness. "You leave my brother alone!" he yelled. "You hear? Leave him alone!"

The man howled with laughter. "You've got spunk, kid, I'll give you that!" Joe balled his fists in anger. If that man hurt Frank…

"What I don't understand is why you bother to defend him? After all, he's the reason you're here!" Joe froze, horrified.

_What?_

"That's right, Joey. Good ol' Frankie wished he didn't have a brother and I granted that wish. I brought you here because Frank didn't want you anymore."

"You're…you're lying," Joe said.

"Oh, am I?" the man chuckled. "Tell me, Joey, what was the last thing Frank said to you? The very last thing?"

Joe couldn't help it. Before he could stop it, an image of Frank, his face contorted in anger, flashed through his mind…_Why? Because I'm supposed to be the good boy and never get in trouble? I'm sick of it, Joe, and I'm sick of you! Why do you have to be such a drag? I wish I didn't have a brother_…

Joe swallowed. "He didn't mean that, he was just angry."

"Really? Then why hasn't he come looking for you?"

"Because he doesn't know where I am!" Joe cried.

"Don't be too sure about that!" the man sneered. "I left him a package this morning with a clue in it!"

Joe didn't know how to respond. He kept seeing Frank yelling at him…_I wish I didn't have a brother_…then storming off, and the man's vicious lies began to have a ring of truth to his confused mind.

Joe sat down weakly on the cot, shaking his head. _No, he's lying! This man's a liar!_

"I still have one more package to deliver to Frank," the man told Joe. "It's a very special package. There's just one problem, Joey…" the man paused then added softly, "the package is in your room!"

Joe's head shot up and his hands gripped the side of the cot in panic as he heard a bolt on the other side of the door being lifted. "Ready or not, Joey, here I come!"

_**A/N: **Hi guys! I'm back from my travle and here's chapter 11, I'm too tired to format another chapter tonight but I'll put chapter 12 up in the morning. And thank you to everyone who reviewed while I was away! Hope you all enjoy the chapter!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_He's coming in here! Oh my God, he's coming in here!_

Joe's heart pounded painfully and his breathing quickened. Slipping off the bed, the boy edged towards the wall and put his back to it.

Slowly the door opened and Joe threw up his hand against the sudden brightness.

"My, aren't we a sight for sore eyes?" the man taunted. "What's the matter, Joey? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Joe lowered his hand and squinted against the light, terror rising sharply in his chest. He knew the man had been in his cell while he slept, how else could he have left the trail mix and the water in there? But now he was coming in while Joe was awake, and Joe guessed that meant trouble.

"Wha-what do you want?" Joe stuttered.

"A souvenir," the man responded cheerfully, moving towards Joe.

As the muscular figure moved towards him, Joe tried to move around him. While the door was open, maybe he could try to escape!

The man stepped in front of him. "I don't think so, Joey."

Joe tried to edge the other way but the man grabbed his arm. Quickly Joe reacted. He stomped on the man's foot and kneed him in the groin. As the man bent forward with a grunt of pain, Joe smacked him in the face then pushed him hard. Darting around him, Joe made for the door. He had just reached it when a hand snaked around his ankle and pulled hard. Joe tumbled forward with a cry of fear. As he hit the floor, the man yanked him back into the room, wrenching his ankle and causing him to cry out in pain.

"That was very stupid, Joey!" the man yelled, hauling the boy to his feet and slamming him against the wall. "Very stupid! You hurt me and you're going to have to pay for that!"

Joe's panicked breathing caught in his throat as the man shook him hard. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Too late for that!" The man put his face close to Joe's and Joe saw his captor clearly for the first time. He had light brown hair and a nondescript face, ordinary in every aspect except for the eyes. Joe repressed a shudder. Those eyes were dead.

"I only wanted your jacket," the man continued. "Just as a little memento, but now I'm going to have to take something more as well."

Slowly, deliberately, the man withdrew a knife from his belt and Joe's eyes widened in horror at the sight of it. "N-no!" he cried as he struggled against the man's grip. "No!"

"You have no one to blame but yourself!" the man hissed, twirling Joe around and pulling him back against him, arms encircling the child. "Bad boys need to be punished!"

His back pressed against the man, Joe could no longer see what he was doing and that terrified the boy beyond belief. Tears began to slide down his face. "P-please!" he begged. "I'm sorry! I'll be good! Please don't hurt me!" His sobs caught in his throat as he felt the knife press against his right arm.

"This is going to hurt," the man laughed as he pushed the knife in.

Joe heard his jacket tear. Then a sharp, piercing pain tore through his arm just below his elbow and the boy screamed in pain. The knife didn't plunge too deeply, no more than half an inch, but the pain burned relentlessly. Cruelly, the man dragged it down until it reached his wrist.

"STOP! STOP!" Joe screamed as the man withdrew the knife. Arms still around the now violently shaking child, the man whispered in his ear, "let that be a reminder to you of what happens to bad boys!" Then he released him and Joe slumped to the floor, cradling his arm.

The man stood over him for several minutes, watching him cry with some satisfaction. Then he knelt beside Joe and said, "give me your jacket, Joey."

Trembling and unable to look at the man, Joe tried to take his jacket off. But his right arm was now screaming in pain and slick with blood. The man laughed in amusement as he watched Joe struggle with his jacket. "Here, Joey, let me help you."

He reached over and Joe shuddered at his touch as the man carefully eased the jacket off him.

"Well, that's me finished for this afternoon," said the man cheerfully as he stood up. "I have some errands to run. Talk later, Joey."

Joe remained slumped on the floor long after the door had closed and the footsteps had died away.

**XXX**

Frank and his father stood in horrified silence for several minutes after the tape ended.

Fenton didn't know how to react. His son's desperate pleading had cut through him like a knife; Joe had sounded so near on the tape that Fenton had needed to remind himself that he wasn't there. That he couldn't help him…and it made him sick to his soul.

Frank's stomach was churning. _This is all my fault! _he moaned silently. Frank knew he would never forgive himself.

Finally, and with difficulty, Fenton spoke. "Frank? I thought…I thought you said Tony gave you that tape?"

"I thought he did," Frank whispered. "It was in the mailbox with the books Tony dropped off."

"Fenton's mind started to race. The man had been to the house! He must have dropped the tape in the mailbox some time that morning or the night before, which meant that Joe must still be in Bayport somewhere!

"Frank, don't touch the tape or the envelope again. I'm going to call Chief Collig!"

Less than thirty minutes later, Chief Collig, Con Riley, Sam Radley and several other members of the Bayport Police Department were gathered in the Hardy home listening to the tape.

Laura Hardy was also there. Despite Fenton's best efforts to persuade her otherwise, she was adamant that she wanted to hear her son's voice.

Frank had disappeared. There was no way he could listen to his brother begging and pleading like that a second time; the first time had been more than enough.

No one spoke as the tape finished playing; the terrified voice of the child on the tape had affected them all.

It was Laura's sobs that broke the silence. Fenton put his arm around her and addressed Chief Collig. "Ezra, only Frank has touched the tape and envelope. Do you think we might be able to get a print off them?"

"We can try," said the Chief grimly. "And I'll have the CSI's print the mailbox too. This guy has to get sloppy somewhere!"

While the forensics team were dusting for prints, Fenton went in search of Frank. It was only when he had heard the tape a second time that he fully understood the kidnapper's words to his eldest son. And if he knew his son, he was off beating himself up somewhere; nobody could guilt trip like Frank.

He found Frank in the back yard, swinging idly on the old swing that hung on the tree at the end of the garden.

"Frank? You okay?"

Mute, Frank shook his head.

Fenton reached out and put his hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank looked up at him and Fenton saw that he was right. Frank _was_ blaming himself. "Frank, this isn't your fault, you know."

"Sure it is, you heard him," said Frank bitterly.

"I heard a raving lunatic who kidnapped an innocent child try and put the blame for his actions on another innocent boy," Fenton told him firmly.

"He heard what I said to Joe," said Frank dully. "That's why he took him."

"No it's not! This guy was obviously watching you! He…" Fenton stopped speaking abruptly as his words to Frank hit him. The man had been watching the boys! He'd been watching them closely enough to hear their argument!

"Oh good God!" whispered Fenton aloud. "Frank, you need to take us back to where you and Joe had the argument! Exactly where you had the argument! This guy was watching you there and obviously followed Joe from there! He might have left a trail!"

Reluctantly, Frank agreed. He had no desire to go back to where he'd had his last bitter confrontation with his brother, but if it meant they might find something that would lead them to Joe then he was all for it.

Within twenty minutes, Frank, his father, Sam, Con and one of the forensic team were at the last place Frank had seen his brother. Frank stood very still while the men searched the area around him.

Finally, Con yelled out, "I've found something!"

The other men rushed to where he was crouched down. It was just inches away from the tunnel that Frank and the other boys had exited from.

"Look at this," said Con, as he carefully held back a branch. "A footprint, a very clear one. It looks like somebody crouched here for sometime."

"I'll make a cast of it," said the man from forensics. "It should give us an indication of height and weight."

"And there's some material too," added Fenton, as he caught sight of some checked flannel fluttering in the breeze. Maybe the guy cut himself on the bush and left some blood?"

Sam said nothing. It was only while the forensics man was busy and Con had gone to radio Chief Collig, that he turned to Fenton. "You sound like you're still trying to ID the guy. I thought we'd agreed it was James Moore?"

Fenton glanced at the ground. "I'm hoping to find some indication that it's not," he said softly. "I know what Moore did to his victims. I…I just can't handle the thought of what he might do to Joe."

Sam looked away. He had no idea what to say to reassure Fenton; there was no doubt in his mind that Joe was in that lunatic's hands.

**XXX**

The man remained in the bushes watching the house. He didn't dare go closer for fear of being seen. There were a lot of police officers around and he didn't want to risk getting caught. Not now, not when he was so close.

An unmarked patrol car pulled up and Fenton Hardy himself stepped out. Another man and a tall, dark-haired teenager joined him. As the trio made their way to the house, Fenton put his arm around the teenager's shoulders. The man's lips curled in a cold smile. It wouldn't be long now.

_Soon, Fenton, soon you'll lose everything that matters to you!_

_**A/N:** This chapter was pretty hard to write so I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to the people who reviewed._

**The Silent Rumble:** Glad you're happy I'm back!

**Paperdaisies:** Aslo glad that you're happy too, and that you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Sunday passed without anything fruitful turning up. There were no prints on the mailbox, tape or envelope, and the piece of material revealed nothing. The boot print suggested that the man in the bushes was roughly five eleven and weighed maybe two hundred pounds; a description which fitted James Moore perfectly.

It did nothing to appease Fenton's growing frustration and anger. "What now?" he growled at Sam, pacing the floor in his study. "What the hell do we do now?"

"Calm down, Fenton. There's nothing we can do," Sam told him. "We know Moore has Joe, and that he's here in Bayport somewhere. The Police are combing through Bayport with a fine tooth comb, they'll turn something up."

"Short of banging on every door in Bayport they'll turn nothing up!" said Fenton through gritted teeth. "If Moore doesn't want to be found then he won't be."

"You found him before," Sam reminded him.

"And I'm sure he'll have learned from that mistake!" spat Fenton. "Why is it always my family? Why can't they just go after me personally? I'm the one they have the grudge against!"

"Because they know it will hurt more," said Sam softly.

Fenton opened his mouth to reply when a soft knock on the door stopped him. "Come in," he called.

The door opened and Frank poked his head into the room. "Um, Dad? Can I have a word?"

Sam glanced at Fenton. "I'll go."

"No, no!" said Frank hurriedly. "I just wanted to talk to Dad about something."

Fenton looked expectantly at his son as Frank entered the room and closed the door. "I want to go to school tomorrow," Frank told him.

"Now I know why you wanted Sam to stay," said Fenton dryly. "So I can't explode at _that_ little announcement."

Frank shuffled guiltily and Sam hid a smile. Fenton sighed. "Frank, school isn't exactly the safest place in the world for you to be right now."

"Dad, I'm going crazy here!" Frank pleaded. "I need to keep busy or I'll go out of my mind!"

"Frank," said Fenton patiently. "I can't let you go alone to school. What if something happens?"

"But I won't be alone," Frank argued. "I'll be surrounded by students and teachers, and Chet's already agreed to escort me to every class!"

"Even if it makes him late for his own?" asked Sam. "That's some friend."

Fenton didn't answer. "Dad, please?" begged Frank.

Sam took pity on the teenager. He had seen how lost the boy was over the last few days. "I can bring him to and from school, Fenton," offered Sam. Frank shot him a grateful smile.

Fenton sighed. "Okay. But, Frank, I mean this, don't go _anywhere_ by yourself! Not even to the bathroom!"

"I won't, I promise! Thanks, Dad."

As Frank turned to go, Fenton shook his head. "I'm guessing you came to me and not your mother because you knew there was no way in a million years she would have given into you on this?" Frank just smiled sheepishly as he left the room.

"Figures," Fenton groaned to Sam. "And guess who the idiot is that has to explain this to Laura?"

**XXX**

The next morning, Frank left with Sam amid much angry muttering from his mother and even more pained shrugging from his father. Laura had not been happy with Fenton for agreeing to Frank's request.

"Do you think she'll have calmed down later?" Frank asked Sam as the car pulled up outside the school.

"Who, Laura? Of course she will," Sam reassured him.

Frank could see Chet making his way to the car. "I'd better go, Sam," he said as he made to open the door.

"Frank, wait. I know your Dad's already said this to you but I'm saying it as well. Don't go _anywhere_ by yourself today. This guy is dangerous." Sam neglected to tell Frank that if Moore had both of Fenton Hardy's sons, he might consider one of them more expendable.

Frank nodded. "I won't, I promise. And thanks for siding with me last night, Sam. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Sam grinned. "I'll pick you up here after school, okay?"

Frank nodded. "See you later, Sam!"

Frank got out of the car just as Chet joined him. "Hey, Frank," Chet greeted him. "Where are we heading first?"

"Spanish," Frank murmured as they walked towards the school. He was painfully aware of the loud whispers and curious stares aimed in his direction.

"Hey, Frank, Chet!" a voice called, and both boys turned to see Tony Prito and another boy walking towards them. Frank recognised him as Phil Cohen, a quiet, studious boy in several of his classes.

"Hey, Tony," said Chet as they caught up with them. "What's up?"

"You two know each other?" asked Frank.

Chet grinned. "We have some classes together."

"Which he usually spends eating," laughed Tony.

"Hey, at least I don't spend them talking, Prito!" Chet retorted good-naturedly.

Phil sighed. "And I'm usually the one caught in the middle."

Frank couldn't help but smile at the good-natured banter. "I hate to be a killjoy," he said as the bell went off. "But I think we all have somewhere to be."

"Yeah, Spanish!" Phil grinned. "Coming, Frank?"

"Okay," said Frank. "See you later, Chet!"

"Hey!" Chet objected. "I thought I was supposed to be your bodyguard!"

"You've been fired!" Tony teased. "He's got a new one - Phil!"

"Some bodyguard I'd make," commented Phil as he glanced at his skinny frame. "_Mice_ aren't scared of me!" Laughing, the boys set off for class.

The morning passed quickly enough for Frank. He had several classes with Phil and found that he had a lot in common with the boy. They spent most of their time between classes talking about computers. Frank liked the quiet boy with the dry sense of humour.

After morning break, Frank was just saying goodbye to Phil before Maths when he met Tony Prito. "Hey, Frank," waved Tony. "Want to help me actually understand Math today?"

"Sure, Tony," Frank agreed. As they set off down the hall, Frank caught sight of Chet heading to another class. Chet smiled and waved at them. It was only then that Frank realised that Chet had orchestrated all of this. Between himself, Tony and Phil, Chet had ensured that Frank was never alone.

And Frank was profoundly grateful. Not because of James Moore, who Frank seriously doubted would come running into a crowded school to abduct Frank in the middle of the day, but because of the other kids. Frank could see he was the hot topic of gossip that day; everywhere he went, kids pointed and whispered. Frank followed the lead of Chet and the others and pointedly ignored them.

It was lunch time when Frank ran into his first spot of trouble.

He had seen Paul in two or three of his morning classes, and although the two teenagers had acknowledged each other, they hadn't spoken. It was lunch, however, before he saw Ryan and Keith.

They were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Keith looked pale and depressed, and most unlike his usual cheerful self. Ryan, Frank saw with a sense of shock, had a heavily bruised face.

_His Dad did beat him! Why don't Social Services do something about it? _Frank wondered.

He sat with Tony while they waited for Phil and Chet to join them. Frank was playing with his food when an angry voice to his left said, "back to being the Golden Boy again, Hardy?"

Frank looked up and saw Ryan standing over him, an ugly look on his face.

"You promised you wouldn't tell!" Ryan hissed.

"That was before my brother was kidnapped, Ryan!" Frank retorted.

"You mean the brother you cared so much about that you told him you wished you didn't have a brother?"

Frank looked at the table. "That was said in the heat of the moment, Ryan. I didn't mean it."

"Yeah? Well, I didn't mean to hurt that old lady!" Ryan spat. "But now I'm being dragged up before a Judge next week, all because of your big mouth!"

"It's Juvenile Court. And we're _all_ going to have to face the Judge at some point about this," Frank reminded him.

"Oh, please," said Ryan bitterly. "You think you have anything to worry about? I bet Daddy's buddies will make sure you get off with nothing more than a smack on the wrist, while the likes of me take the fall!"

"Take the fall?" Frank repeated. "Ryan, you hit that old woman! And if I remember correctly, you were the only one who did! So yes, you're the one who should be punished!"

"Sanctimonious little shit!" said Ryan viciously. "I'll teach you!"

Before Frank knew what was happening, Ryan had jumped on him, slammed his head into the table and put a knife to his throat!

Chaos erupted around them as students screamed and backed away from the scene of the disruption.

"I'll make you very sorry, Hardy, you just wait and see," whispered Ryan dangerously in Frank's ear, keeping the knife to his throat. Frank struggled to get out from beneath him, but Ryan was bigger than he was and used his weight to keep Frank pinned down. "You think you can say things like that to me?"

"I'll say what I want to you!" Frank hissed angrily. "You have a nasty temper, Ryan, and you need to learn to control it!"

Ryan laughed. "Oh, and I suppose Saint Hardy hasn't been losing his temper at all these last few weeks? People like you make me sick! You think different rules apply to you just because your family's rich!"

"My family's not rich!"

"Well they ain't exactly poor either," said Ryan. "But money of any kind still buys you immunity; just look at that retraction your Dad got printed the other evening!"

"That _wasn't_ my Dad," said Frank through gritted teeth.

"Sure, whatever you say," sneered Ryan.

"Ryan Aston!" a shocked voice rang out. "What are you doing?"

Ryan froze. Frank couldn't see what was happening, but he guessed from Ryan's actions that the boy had forgotten he had an audience. "What?" said Ryan, confused.

"Let go of that boy now!" a voice commanded, and Frank guessed it was a teacher.

Ryan kept a grip on Frank, unsure what to do, and Frank felt a mad urge to laugh at the idea of a hostage situation at the hands of one of his fellow students.

But then another voice sounded. "Ryan! What the hell are you doing!"

It was Paul.

"I'm…uh…" Ryan stuttered.

"Ryan, let him go," said Paul quietly. "Can't you see what you're doing?"

Ryan glanced down at Frank, still pinned beneath him and stood up letting the knife drop. "I…I didn't think," he mumbled.

Paul shook his head sadly. "You never do."

Two teachers stepped forward and escorted Ryan out of the cafeteria. Frank didn't realise how silent it had become until shocked whispers broke out among the students.

He glanced over at Tony who was sitting frozen in his seat. Chet and Phil stood nearby, their lunch trays in their hands. As Frank straightened up, a teacher hurried over. "Frank, are you okay?"

It was Mrs. Williams, the Physics teacher.

"Uh, fine," Frank mumbled, trying to pretend he didn't notice the stares in his direction.

"Maybe you should see the nurse," Mrs. Williams persisted.

"No, I'm fine, Mrs. Williams, honest," said Frank. "I'd really rather just get on with my lunch."

The teacher looked uncertain but walked away and left him alone. Quickly, Chet and Phil dropped their trays on the table and sank into the chairs on either side of Frank. "Wow, Frank, are you okay?" asked Chet breathlessly.

Frank nodded.

"Man, life's never dull with a Hardy around," Phil mumbled and they all laughed, even Frank.

"I should start charging for the entertainment," he joked.

Lunch was almost over when an announcement rang out over the PA system, "could Frank Hardy please come to the Principal's office? That's Frank Hardy to the Principal's office, thank you."

Frank stood up with a sigh. "And here I go with the entertainment again. Talk to you later, guys."

As Frank headed for the cafeteria doors, the other boys glanced at one another. Wordlessly they rose from their seats and followed Frank. They caught up with him in the hall. Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Thought you might like the company," Chet shrugged. Frank smiled gratefully and they continued in silence to the Principal's office. Once there, the other boys were forced to wait outside while Frank went in. He wasn't surprised to see his parents sitting there.

"Frank, are you okay?" asked his mother at once. "Principal Woods called and told us what happened."

"I told you what the eyewitness and Ryan told me," he corrected her. "But I'd like to hear from Frank now."

Quickly Frank told them everything that had passed between himself and Ryan. When he was finished, the Principal sighed. "That's what I thought. I've had trouble with Ryan before, but nothing like this."

"What will happen to Ryan?" Frank asked. "None of this is really his fault, his dad beats him and I think Ryan is pretty angry about it."

"So I gathered," said the Principal. "But I'm afraid that really is a matter for Social Services, and I've reported everything to them today. My concern is for this school, and I'm afraid Ryan is just too unstable to risk keeping around other kids. I have no other alternative but to expel him."

"What?" Frank exclaimed in shock. "You can't expel him!" _Wait_, he thought, _why am I defending Ryan?_

"It's already been done," said the Principal. "Ryan was treading on pretty thin ice before this, but pulling a knife on another student is a very serious matter. Even the eyewitness agreed that Ryan is out of control.

"Hold on," said Frank confused. "Who was the eyewitness? Chet, Tony and Phil were with me all through lunch…"

"It was Paul Knox," the Principal told him quietly.

**XXX**

Later that evening, Frank was at home doing his homework when his father got a call from Chief Collig. James Moore had been spotted at a rundown factory on the outskirts of Bayport. Fenton told him he would be there in fifteen minutes.

"Laura, there's a Patrol car just outside the front door," said Fenton. "Don't answer the door unless you know who it is, just in case."

"Fenton, I do know what to do," said Laura irritably, watching her husband put on his coat. "But it sounds as though Moore is at this factory, so surely we don't need to worry?"

"_Reported _to be at the factory, Laura, there's a difference."

Laura glanced down at her hands where she was tightly clutching a cloth, the only indication of the turmoil raging inside her. "Do you think Joe will be there?" she asked softly.

Fenton paused on his way out the door. "I hope so," he answered. "I'll call as soon as we find something."

As Fenton left, Laura turned to her eldest son who had been watching the exchange between his parents. "Dinner is ready, Frank," said Laura in a hollow voice.

It was a very subdued meal with just Frank, his mother and his aunt. Ethel had returned home earlier that day. None of them ate much and their eyes kept straying anxiously to the phone.

Laura was the first to get up and bring her half-eaten meal to the sink. Frank quickly followed suit.

"Guess you're not too hungry either, huh?" his mother smiled sadly.

Frank shook his head. "No, not really." He tried to smile at his mother but the smile died on his face when he saw how upset she really was. Instinctively, he reached over and hugged her. "It'll be fine, Mom," he whispered. "Dad will find him."

Gertrude appeared behind them carrying her own plate. "Laura, why don't you take a hot bath and I'll clear up."

Laura immediately started to protest but Gertrude silenced her. "I insist, Laura. A hot bath might help you relax enough to sleep tonight. You haven't slept properly in days and you don't look well."

There was too much wisdom in Gertrude's words for Laura to argue. "Alright," she conceded. "Frank, I want you to take out the garbage for your aunt."

"Sure, Mom, no problem."

While Laura headed upstairs, Gertrude briskly set about clearing the table while Frank emptied the bin and headed out the back. Most evenings Frank took the garbage out, but occasionally Joe insisted that he would do it. Frank would then watch for several minutes while Joe stubbornly tried to lift the bag out of the bin before admitting defeat. And then Frank would take the garbage out anyway.

Frank grinned to himself in the darkness of the garden. Despite his size, Joe was always trying to prove that he could do everything Frank could, and it frustrated him no end when he couldn't. Frank's smile faded as he walked back towards the house. Joe had been missing for five days now, and it was the longest time that Frank had ever spent without speaking to his brother.

Frank just hoped he would get the chance to talk to Joe again. There was a lot he needed to tell him.

Just as he reached the screen door, Frank heard the phone ring in the hall. "I'll get it!" he yelled as he bolted through the kitchen. Reaching the phone, Frank snatched it up and answered breathlessly, "hello?"

"Frank?" his father's voice sounded on the other end.

"Dad! Did you find anything?"

"No….the place….so we had…."

"What? Dad, I can't hear you, the connection is terrible!" said Frank.

"….your mother…home…"

Frank felt frustration and impatience rise. "Dad, did you find anything?"

"No…Sam…"

"I still can't hear you, Dad!" cried Frank. Suddenly there was a click and he heard the distinct buzz of a dial tone. His father was gone.

Frank stared at the receiver in his hand for several seconds. He hadn't heard most of what his father had said, but it sounded as though they hadn't found anything. Crushed, Frank returned to the kitchen to tell his aunt the news. As he pushed open the kitchen door, Frank froze in horror.

His aunt was lying unconscious on the floor.

"Aunt Gertrude!" Frank cried, moving towards his aunt. Suddenly he was aware of movement behind him and whirled around. A large, muscular man had been hiding behind the kitchen door and as Frank turned around he threw himself on the boy, clasping a large hand over his mouth.

Frank struggled furiously, causing the man to lose his balance and fall…right on top of Frank. The teenager gasped as the air was driven from his lungs.

"Well, well," the man sneered as he stared down at Frank. "Aren't you the real miniature Fenton Hardy? Did Daddy get my message?"

Frank knew who he was instantly. This was James Moore, this was the man who had his brother.

"I've decided to leave him a more interesting one though," said Moore as his fingers found Frank's neck. "The body of his son."

Frank choked as the man's fingers tightened around his throat. Moore was trying to strangle him!

_**A/N:** Sorry it's taken me so long to add the chapters, I'm just really busy at the moment and it's hard to find time to get online. But the story is fully written and I promise, 3 days at most will be the wait for each chapter._

**Shee-cj**: The site didn't show your email so I'm responding this way. Thank you for the great review. I'm a massive Joe fan too (but I always try to give each brother equal page time). To answer your questions; there are 21 chapters in Broken Threads, but I'm afraid there are no other HB fanfiction sites. The Hardy Boys aren't one of those topics that people tend to write alot of fanfiction about. And for what it's worth, you'll never find Nancy in my stories!

**The Silent Rumble**: I know you're a fan of Frank angst so I hope this chapter and the next one satisfy you a little! Thanks for the review!

**Paperdaisies**: And I appreciate the reviews! It's fantastic to know that someone likes my story enough to take the time to review. Thank you so much for taking that time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Frank clawed desperately at the man's hands, his lungs literally begging for air. But the man was far stronger than the boy and tightened his grip.

Frank felt his vision darken as pinpricks of light danced before his eyes. The world had gone eerily silent, and all he could see was his attacker's face smiling down at him. Suddenly, Moore's expression changed to one of shock and he pitched sideways off of Frank and onto the floor.

Frank looked up. His mother stood over him in a bathrobe, breathing heavily with her arms raised. In her hands was what Frank recognised to be one of his father's old basketball trophies. "Nobody hurts my son!" she hissed angrily. "Nobody!"

Slowly, Frank sat up massaging his throat. His mother knelt beside him. "Frank, honey, are you okay?"

"Fine," he rasped. His mother hugged him tightly then helped him to his feet. "Can you get that police officer in the car out there to radio your father and Chief Collig?" she asked gently as she steered him into the hall.

Frank nodded. It hurt his throat to speak.

"Good boy," she smiled tightly as she pulled open the drawer of the hall table. Reaching in, Laura pulled out a gun and Frank's eyes widened. "Your father put this here for easy access as a security precaution last night," Laura explained softly.

Frank merely stared. "Frank," his mother nudged him gently. "The police? I need you to get that officer to radio Chief Collig, and the paramedics as well."

Frank dashed out the front door to the young officer parked outside, and gave him a hurried explanation of what had happened before racing back into the house. His mother was crouched beside his aunt, gently trying to bring her round. She turned when she heard Frank.

"Honey, I need you to get me some water," said Laura, as she gently chafed Gertrude's wrists bringing a slight groan from the older woman. Frank did as he was told and brought the water to his mother with shaking hands.

As Gertrude's eyes fluttered open, Laura gave her a sip of water. "Oooooh, my head," she moaned. "What happened?"

"You've taken a nasty knock to the head," Laura explained. "Just lie still until the paramedics have examined you. Frank, can you get me the blanket from the back of the living room couch please?"

Frank raced to the living room and grabbed the blanket. He was just retuning to the kitchen as James Moore started to stir.

In a flash, Laura was on her feet and had the gun pointed at the man. "Don't move!" she ordered.

The man sat up smirking. "Lady, put the gun away before you hurt yourself. You don't honestly expect me to be afraid of you, do you?"

Laura's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I might not like guns but I do know how to use them," she said in a low voice, and cocked the trigger to emphasise her point. The man paled slightly. "I suggest you listen to the woman whose son you just tried to strangle, or I might forget that I'm a good guy," she finished, her voice quiet but deadly.

"You're bluffing," he mumbled.

"Try me!" Laura hissed.

Minutes later, when the young officer rushed in, Moore was sitting quietly on the floor eyeing Laura nervously. Laura waited until the officer had the man handcuffed and his own gun trained on him before dropping hers.

Wordlessly she took the blanket from Frank and placed it over her sister-in-law. "How are you feeling?" she asked as Gertrude struggled to sit up.

"I have a terrible headache," Gertrude replied with a venomous look at Moore. Suddenly they heard Fenton's anxious voice from the hall. "Laura! Frank! Gertrude!"

"In here!" his wife called.

Fenton raced into the kitchen, followed closely by Sam, Con and Chief Collig. "Are you alright?" he demanded as he embraced his family one by one. His eyes narrowed as he took in the bruises starting to form on Frank's throat.

"We're fine," Laura assured him. "Fenton, how did you get here so quickly?"

"We were nearly home when Officer Munroe radioed in the attack. Con broke every red light racing back her." Fenton shot the officer a grateful smile.

"Oh, how touching! A moving family reunion!" spat a cold voice bitterly. They turned to see Moore being hauled to his feet by Officer Munroe and Chief Collig.

Fenton's face turned hard. "You scum!" he hissed as he stalked towards Moore. "Where is my son?"

Moore laughed. "You're losing it, Hardy! Your son is right behind you!"

"Not Frank, Joe! Where is Joe?"

Moore remained silent and Frank spoke up, his voice hoarse. "He sent the tape, Dad. He said he sent you a message and was going to leave another one!"

"Where is he?" Fenton snarled, stepping closer to Moore.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the man snapped and Fenton exploded.

Lunging forward before anyone could stop him, Fenton grabbed the front of the man's shirt and shook him hard. "Don't lie, you sick son-of-a-bitch! I heard the tape! Where is he? Where's my son?"

"Easy, Fenton," said Sam, stepping forward and prying his finger's off Moore's shirt. "We'll find out nothing this way.

Moore looked confused now. "I never sent any tape! I called the cops this evening and left an anonymous tip saying that I was at that factory. I only wanted to draw Hardy away from the house." He looked at the shock, confusion and fear on their faces, and a slow smile began to play across his own. "You mean someone else actually has your son?"

Nobody answered and Moore laughed, then looked Fenton straight in the eye. "I might not get _my_ revenge against you," he said coldly, "but it looks like someone else has got theirs. I hope you never see your son again!"

**XXX**

The music continued to wail relentlessly, but Joe had stopped trying to cover his ears. After all, what was the point? He could still hear it.

He coughed painfully. The cold of his cell was starting to affect him and Joe's chest felt raw and sore. However, that was nothing compared to the pain of his injured arm.

Moaning, Joe tried to move into a position that didn't feel too torturous to his aching arm. His kidnapper hadn't spoken to him since the violent assault, choosing instead to torment Joe by playing the shrill music non-stop. Exhaustion had caused him to fall asleep several times, but the music meant he was always jerked quickly back to reality feeling disoriented and confused. Joe was beginning to feel like he was going mad.

Suddenly the music was switched off and a gentle tap sounded at the door. "Kid? Are you awake?"

Joe sat up slowly. That wasn't his kidnappers voice!

"Kid," the voice called again. "Listen, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. I've brought you some soup, I thought it might help with your cough."

Joe was utterly bewildered. _What's going on? _he thought.

He heard the bold being raised and the door was pulled slowly open. Joe covered his eyes as the light shone into his darkened cell. He heard someone enter the room and squinted upwards, then hopped quickly off the cot in shock.

It was a trick. Before him stood his kidnapper!

Breathing painfully, Joe backed against the wall. "Don't hurt me," he pleaded. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Take it easy," said the man quietly. "I know I look like him but I'm not him!"

Joe couldn't help but stare. The man sounded different, but he was identical in every aspect to his kidnapper.

_No, that's not true either, _he realised suddenly. This man's hair was more dishevelled and his eyes were kind and full of pity, so different from the cold stone of his kidnapper. Joe noticed that the man had a bowl of soup in his hands and his eyes widened. The man saw Joe's expression and he quickly placed the soup on the floor.

"Look," he said, as he backed out of the room keeping his hands in the air. "I won't hurt you, honest. You were coughing pretty badly all night and I just thought some soup would help."

Keeping a wary eye on the man, Joe moved forward and used his good arm to pick up the soup and drink it back. It was awkward, but he was starving and determined to manage it. The steaming warmth was wonderful and the boy felt warmer than he had in days. When he was finished, he carefully returned the bowl to the floor and retreated back again, watching this newcomer.

And the other man had been watching him. He had seen how the boy cradled his right arm, and had used only his left to manoeuvre the soup. It was obvious he was injured.

The man picked up the blanket he had left on the floor and brought it into the room. Gently he placed it on the cot and retrieved the empty bowl, then backed out of the room again. "Put that around you," he instructed Joe. "I'm going to close the door but I'll be back in a few minutes with something for your arm."

Switching on the cell light, the man closed the door. As Joe heard the bolt move back into place, he grabbed up the blanket and wrapped himself in it. He was confused and apprehensive, but no longer scared. This man had shown him the first kindness that the boy had seen in days. Cocooned in the blanket, Joe drifted off into an exhausted sleep. He was woken only minutes later by a gentle shake of the shoulder.

Panicked, Joe sat up.

"Whoa!" said the man gently. "Relax, I won't hurt you. I just brought some ointment and bandages for your arm." The man held them out to Joe who tentatively took them. The boy tried to roll up the sleeve of his blood-soaked sweatshirt to get at the wound but found he couldn't manage it. It hurt too much.

"Want me to do it?" asked the man quietly. Wordlessly Joe held out his arm. He was in terrible pain and was so desperate for something to ease it that he was willing to let this stranger help. Carefully the man eased back the sleeve of the boy's sweatshirt.

"Sorry," he said as Joe winced. Silently he appraised the wound; it was inflamed and sore looking, and had the beginnings of an infection. As he started to clean the arm with some warm water and apply the ointment, the man felt a sharp pang of pity for the blond boy in front of him. When he was finished, he gently wound some bandages around Joe's arm.

"I'd better do the same for that," he said, as he pointed to the bruised welt on Joe's forehead. Unconsciously, Joe touched his head. It had been days since he'd looked in the mirror and he'd forgotten about the lump on his head. Quickly the man cleaned the wound, but he didn't put a dressing on it.

"I can't," he said, as Joe's blue eyes regarded him questioningly. "He'll know. And that reminds me, I'd better roll your sleeve back down so he doesn't see the bandages on your arm."

"Who are you?" asked Joe, as the stranger rolled his sleeve back down. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because I don't like what my brother is doing," answered the man quietly. "Here, take these," he added, pushing two Tylenol towards Joe.

"What are they?"

They'll help with the pain. What's your name, kid?"

"Joe."

"Well, Joe, I'm Kevin," said the man, handing him a glass of water. Joe drank the water and took the Tylenol.

"Thank you," he whispered, as he handed the glass back.

"You're welcome." Kevin smiled sadly. "I'll try and help you whenever my brother goes out. Just don't tell him I did this, okay?"

Joe nodded and stared at his hands. "If you want to help me you could just let me escape," he mumbled softly.

"No way!" the man shook his head vehemently. "He'd know it was me! You've no idea what he'd…" Kevin's face took on a haunted look and he looked at Joe. "I'm sorry, Joe, but this is the best I can do."

Joe nodded, keeping his eyes on his hands so the man wouldn't see his tears. All he wanted was to go home.

"Joe," said Kevin. "He's due back soon, I have to go."

Joe nodded, still not looking up.

"I need the blanket, Joe."

Joe's head jerked up. "Please," he begged. "I'm so cold…"

I know," said Kevin guiltily. "But I can't, it's best if he doesn't know." Reluctantly, Joe handed Kevin the blanket.

"I have to turn the light off again, but I _can_ leave the music off," Kevin offered. "I can tell him I got sick of listening to it."

Joe didn't answer. It was only when Kevin turned off the light that he spoke up. "What's his name?" he whispered.

Kevin turned and looked at Joe, his figure outlined in the light of the next room. "Miles," he answered. "Miles Denton."

Then he was gone, leaving Joe alone in the dark once more.

_**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews guys, glad you liked that last chapter...it was rather difficult to write._

**Shee-cj:** Trust me, Joe's in for a very rough ride before this story is out! Thanks for the review!

**Paperdaisies:** LOL! I'm glad you picked up on the irony, it's something I got quite a kick out of when writing this chapter! Thanks for the review!

**Penguinlover:** Hope there's enough Joe in this chapter to keep you happy! Thanks for the review, glad you like the story!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Fenton, despite his earlier proclamation, was crushed to learn that Moore did not have his son. "We have nothing," he told Sam, his voice empty, as the police led Moore away. "No clues, no leads, nothing."

Sam remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would console Fenton or the rest of the Hardys. The investigation into Joe's disappearance had just come to a screeching halt and they all knew it. Sam could see it in their eyes.

He glanced at Con Riley for some words of reassurance but Con just shook his head, looking every bit as helpless as Sam. "How did Moore get into the house?" asked Sam, looking instead for something matter-of-fact to say.

Frank glanced up guiltily from where he was slumped on a chair. "I let him in," he mumbled. "I never closed the back door after putting out the trash."

"The phone rang and you just ran to answer it," said his aunt, who was being examined by the paramedics who had just finished examining Frank. "It wasn't your fault, you were just anxious for some news. Oh for heaven's sake, will you stop fussing over me!" she snapped at the paramedic who was trying to take her pulse. "I'm perfectly alright!"

"Of course it wasn't Frank's fault," said Chief Collig, as he returned to the room after escorting Moore to the Patrol car. "If anything, the person at fault here is Officer Munroe." Chief Collig glared at the young officer who blushed and stared at the ground. "Just how did Moore get around to the back of the house? I gave orders that you were to perform a sweep of the garden around the house every twenty minutes!"

Officer Munroe blushed even more and mumbled something inaudible. Fenton took pity on the young officer. "It's not his fault, Ezra. Moore was just lucky. And we probably should have known that tip wasn't genuine when it was anonymous. No one was seriously hurt, let's just leave it." Fenton's voice was weary.

"That's not the point!" snapped Chief Collig. "The man was on duty and should have known better!" He caught sight of Fenton's downcast face and sighed. "Fine. Officer Munroe, you can go with Officer Daniels and escort Moore back to the station. I'll contact Phoenix to let them know we've picked him up."

The young officer nodded, mumbled his apologies and shot out of the house. Irritated, Chief Collig turned to Con. "Can you watch the house tonight?"

Con nodded. "Of course."

"Good," the chief grunted and turned to Fenton. "Fenton, I…"

Laura interrupted them. "Con, you don't need to watch the house tonight." They all turned to stare at her and Laura shook her head. "Moore is back in prison so he's no longer a threat."

"Laura…" Sam began.

"Don't try and 'Laura' me, Sam, I'm not stupid! Whoever has Joe has no interest in coming after us to hurt us. He doesn't need to, keeping Joe from us hurts more than enough."

"Laura," Fenton tried, but Laura cut him off too.

"Don't even say it, Fenton," she warned bitterly. "I've had all I can take! If I hadn't heard Frank yelling at you on the phone, then I wouldn't have come downstairs and it's the Coroner who would be here, not the paramedics! So stop trying to sugar-coat everything and tell me exactly what are the chances of getting Joe back!"

"Laura, please," Fenton implored. "We'll get Joe back, you just need…"

"I need my son!" Laura yelled. "I can't stand not knowing! Fenton, you _have_ to tell me what's going on!"

"But we don't know anything," said Fenton desperately, approaching his wife and trying to take her hands in his.

"You have to know something," his wife pleaded and Fenton shook his head. "Nothing?" Laura whispered. The look on her husband's face gave her the answer. With a wail of anguish, Laura finally snapped. "I…w-want…my son," she sobbed as Fenton put his arms around her. "I want m-my…little boy!"

The men in the room glanced away uncomfortably, unused to seeing the normally strong Laura Hardy lose control like this. It was Gertrude who silently ushered them all into the hall, keeping a tight grip on her nephew's shoulder as she did so.

"Go home," she told the men. "You've done more than enough for one night."

"But…" Sam started to protest. Gertrude cut him off.

"But nothing, Sam Radley! You go home to your wife and get some rest. I'll handle things here. We'll see you all in the morning." She looked so fierce that none of the men dared argue.

"Okay," Sam agreed. "But call me at any time if I'm needed."

"And me," Con added.

"I will," said Gertrude quietly as they left. "And thank you."

It was a long night for the Hardy family. None of them slept properly. Each one was troubled by their own thoughts and nightmares, and shortly after six they all began to rise.

The kitchen was silent as Laura and Gertrude prepared breakfast. The fear that they might never see Joe again had been a constant presence the last few days, but now it was fast becoming a reality. As Fenton glanced at the grim, silent figures of his family, he realised that they were coming apart at the seams…and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Just before nine, Sam and Ethel arrived. Both noticed the change in the Hardy household at once; it seemed hope had been replaced by despair.

"I take it you're not going to school today, Frank," said Sam, making a brave stab at conversation. Frank shook his head in response.

"Gertrude," said Ethel, making another stab. "I was going to get some groceries. Would you like to come with me?"

"Alright." Gertrude nodded her agreement.

"What about you, Laura?" asked Ethel.

Laura shook her head. "I think I'll stay here," she mumbled quietly.

"Okay," said Ethel gently. "Gertrude, are you ready?"

Gertrude nodded. "Just let me get my coat."

The two woman were heading out the door just as a blond boy came up the path. For a moment, Gertrude's heart leapt hopefully but then she realised the boy was much too tall to be Joe.

It was Biff Hooper. "Morning, Aunt Gertrude," he greeted her.

"Biff?" said Gertrude. "Why aren't you at school?"

"I had the flu," he explained. "Today's the first day I've been up and Mom didn't want to send me to school yet."

"So she let you come here instead, did she?" asked Gertrude, peering at him shrewdly. Biff blushed and Gertrude sighed in understanding. "Call your mother and let her know where you are, I'm sure she'll be worried." Turning back, she called into the house, "Frank, you have a visitor!"

As Frank appeared in the doorway, Gertrude walked with Ethel to the car. "It's good to see you, Biff," she said quietly.

Biff smiled and turned to face Frank who was looking at him surprised. "Biff, what are you doing here?"

"I came to get some information seeing as nobody bothered to ring me with any!" Biff retorted, glaring angrily at Frank.

Frank winced. He had completely forgotten that Joe's best friend would want to know what was happening. "Sorry," he muttered. "Things have been a little crazy here the last few days."

Biff's anger disappeared immediately. "It's okay," he shrugged and came up the porch steps towards Frank. Frank couldn't help but stare at Biff. The boy had only turned twelve a few weeks ago, but already he was taller than Frank.

"What's happening, Frank?" asked Biff bluntly. "Any news on Joe?"

Dejected, Frank shook his head. "We know nothing. We don't know who has Joe, we have no clues, nothing," he finished dully.

Biff was shocked. "But hasn't the kidnapper asked for a ransom or anything?"

"No! The only thing we got was a tape!" Frank spat bitterly, then told Biff about the tape. Biff looked sick.

Both boys were standing in silence when Fenton suddenly appeared in the door way. "There you are, Frank," he said. "Hello, Biff."

"Hi, Mr. Hardy."

Fenton looked at them expectantly. "Well? Are you boys going to come in, or are you planning on standing out here all day?"

As the boys followed Fenton into the house, Biff turned to Frank. "Uh, Frank? I sorta need to call my Mom. I didn't tell her where I was going."

**XXX**

The hours dragged on into late afternoon.

Biff had called his mother who had shouted herself hoarse down the phone at him before agreeing that he could stay at the Hardy's for a while. Gertrude and Ethel had returned from shopping and Ethel had then returned home with the promise that she would be back later. Meanwhile, Fenton and Sam had locked themselves in the study and were pouring over Fenton's files.

As Laura and Gertrude tried to busy themselves in the kitchen, Frank and Biff played computer games in the living room. Each one played worse than the other. They couldn't concentrate; all they could think about was Joe.

Around four, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Frank yelled as he headed into the hall. He pulled open the door to see a courier standing there.

"Package for Frank Hardy," said the man.

"That's me," answered Frank, staring at the courier.

"Sign here please," said the man in a bored voice, waving a clip board in Frank's face. Frank signed it and the man thrust a large package at the boy. "See ya," he mumbled, heading back down the path to his van.

Frank stood stock-still, holding the brown package with trembling hands. He hadn't ordered anything and was too young to be receiving packages. The teenager knew at once who had sent it.

_Joe's kidnapper._

"Frank, who was at the door?" his mother called as she appeared in the hall, wiping her hands on an apron. She froze when she saw Frank standing there, the brown package in his hands. "What's that?" she whispered and Frank looked at her, his face white.

Laura knew at once. "FENTON!" she screamed.

Fenton Hardy appeared at the door of his study. "What is it? What's wrong?" he demanded.

Laura pointed a trembling finger at the package in Frank's hands. Slowly, Fenton's face drained of colour. "When did that arrive?"

"Just now," answered Frank. "A Courier dropped it off."

Sam appeared in the door behind Fenton. "What's going on?"

"Frank just got a package," answered Fenton moving towards his son.

"What?" said Sam. "Oh!" he exclaimed as realisation dawned. Quickly he hurried after Fenton and grabbed his wrist just as Fenton was reaching for the package. "No!"

Fenton was startled. "Sam…"

"There could be prints on it," Sam reminded him.

"But Frank and the Courier have already touched it!" argued Fenton.

"All the more reason for you not to," said Sam firmly. "We need to call Chief Collig. Frank, place the package carefully on the floor."

As Fenton dialled the Chief, Frank gently placed the package on the floor. By now Biff and Gertrude had joined them in the hall. They all stared apprehensively at the parcel as though it were a bomb that could explode at any minute.

The police and the forensics team arrived twenty five long minutes later, and the Hardys were forced to endure another nerve-wracking twenty minutes while forensics examined the outside of the package.

"There's nothing," said the senior CSI.

"_Now _can we open it?" demanded Frank, his hands shaking with fear.

"Yes, but we have to do it carefully," answered the CSI. "There might still be prints on the inside." Frank's face dropped and the CSI added, "don't worry, it won't take long."

As the CSI carefully opened the package, everyone held their breath. "It's a jacket," he announced, holding it up.

"That's Joe's!" Laura cried, then froze as she caught sight of the long slash in the right sleeve, blood staining it heavily. "No!" she whispered.

Frank was also staring at the jacket with growing horror. _He hurt him! Oh my God, he hurt him! _Frank could feel an uncontrollable panic threatening to overwhelm him.

"Hey, there's a note!" said the younger CSI, not seeing the warning looks the senior CSI was sending him. Quickly he reached down and pulled out a piece of paper between gloved fingers. His superior glowered at him. He had been hoping to save the two boys in the hall from hearing the contents of the note.

"What does it say?" asked Fenton sharply, moving forward and reading the note. His eyes hardened and his face turned ashen.

"What does it say, Dad?" asked Frank.

Fenton didn't look at him.

"What does it say, Dad?" said Frank, raising his voice.

"It doesn't matter," his father mumbled, still avoiding his eyes.

"Yes it does!" Frank yelled. "It's about Joe, isn't it? I want to know, Dad! He's my brother, I have a right to know!"

"So do I," Laura spoke up quietly.

Fenton swallowed and read out what was written on the piece of paper; _This is what happens to bad boys…they get punished. Tell Fenton this won't be the first 'piece' of his son to arrive!_

There was silence when Fenton finished reading. Laura was shaking like a leaf as she stared at her husband, but it was Frank who reacted first.

"NO!" he screamed.

"Frank…" said his father, moving towards him.

"_You stay there_!" spat Frank viciously and his father stopped in shock. "You're supposed to be the hotshot detective, Dad, so find him! Do you hear me? FIND HIM!"

**XXX**

Miles Denton frowned to himself as he entered the basement. The music had been turned off. Quietly he opened the door and peered into the room. The boy was asleep. Scowling, Miles moved towards him, then stopped as Joe coughed and moved restlessly in his sleep. The sleeve of his sweatshirt pulled back a little and Miles caught sight of the bandages on Joe's arm.

His scowl deepened. _Where the hell did those come from? _Then realisation hit him. _Kevin!_

Miles clenched his fist. He would need to have a word with that bleeding-heart brother of his.

Quickly he retreated out of the room and slammed the door shut. Furiously, he threw the bolt into place and banged on the music. Shrill wailing filled the air once more and Miles smiled to himself as he heard a moan from inside the room, followed by choked coughing. Turning up the music, Miles went back upstairs humming tunelessly. He supposed he shouldn't really care about the bandages.

After all, this time tomorrow, Joe Hardy would be dead.

_**A/N:** Thanks to _**Penguinlover**, **shee1**, **Paperdaises** _and_ **astalder27** _for the reviews, you guys are the best! But I'd really appreciate it if other readers took the time to add a comment or two; all authors love a little feedback, inspires us to write more!!!!! I see the statisticss and I'm getting over 100 reads per chapter but only 3 reviews! Please guys, I'd really appreciate any feedback at all...this story took alot of time to write and I'd really like to know what you think of it. Thanks!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As his father stared dumbfounded at him, Frank turned on his heel and raced upstairs. Fenton made to go after him but Sam held him back. "Let him go, Fenton. He needs a little time to cool down." Fenton shook his head, shocked.

"That was stupid," the senior CSI mumbled to the younger one. "You shouldn't have said anything about the note."

"Well it's too late to worry about it now!" snapped Chief Collig. "Get that jacket back to the lab and see if you can get anything off it."

Carefully the two CSIs bagged the jacket and the paper it was delivered in, then left. Several police officers followed suit, leaving just Con and Chief Collig behind.

"We have something to go on now, Fenton," Con tried to reassure the man. "You said the package came by Courier? Well, maybe the Courier can ID this guy."

Fenton nodded, unable to speak. He was shaken by the note and by Frank's aggressive reaction to it. Laura appeared at his side and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

"We'll track the Courier down through the delivery docket," Chief Collig said. "I'll let you know the second we have news."

They left, leaving the Hardys, Biff and Sam standing silently in the hall. "I think I'd better take Biff home," said Sam after several minutes of painful silence. Fenton nodded.

"Come on, Biff," said Sam, as he ushered the shocked boy out of the house. "I'll drive you home."

**XXX**

Frank spent the remainder of the afternoon in Joe's room lying on the bed. A vague smell of Joe lingered there, and for the tiniest moment, none of this nightmare was happening.

Frank tried to swallow his pain as he curled up on the bed. The possibility that he might never see his brother again had become frighteningly real, and Frank felt suffocated by his own fear and panic.

_I swear, I'll do anything_…_anything! Please bring him home safe_, he prayed desperately. _Please!_

Frank had every intention of never pushing his brother away again.

_But you're pushing Mom and Dad away right now_, a voice reminded him.

Frank rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had scared himself with the sudden, violent anger he had exhibited towards his father that afternoon.

_You know it's not Dad's fault_, Frank told himself. The teenager realised he had been looking for an outlet for his fear and frustration, and had lashed out at his father. Frank groaned. _Dammit! I'm supposed to stop doing that!_

There was a gentle knock at the door, followed by his mother's soft voice. "Frank?"

"I'm not hungry, Mom," Frank answered, presuming that was what she wanted.

"It's not that, there's someone here to see you."

Frank sat up. "There is? Who?"

"I don't know who it is," his mother answered.

Frank got off the bed and opened the door. He looked enquiringly at his mother.

"He's in the living room," she told him. Silently, Frank followed his mother downstairs.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you want anything," she said softly. Frank nodded and pushed open the living room door, then stopped dead.

His visitor was Paul. Frank stared in shocked surprise at the teenager. "Paul! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," said Paul awkwardly.

"You did?"

Paul nodded. "How's things?" he mumbled.

"Crap," said Frank shortly and Paul looked at him in surprise. "Sorry," said Frank. "It's been a long day."

"No word on your brother, huh?"

Frank shook his head and Paul stared at his feet, unsure how to respond.

"Do you want something to drink?" asked Frank tiredly. He wished Paul would say whatever he had come to say, instead of shuffling awkwardly. Suddenly, Frank found that he no longer found Paul to be quite so cool and impressive as he once did. Standing there in the Hardy living room, Paul was just another teenager like Frank.

Paul sighed. "Frank, you should know Mrs. Deagan died this morning."

Frank felt his heart thud painfully. "What?" he whispered.

Paul swallowed. "She had a brain haemorrhage. There was nothing the Doctors could do."

Frank's mind reeled. _Oh God! _he thought. And then something else struck him. _Oh, no, Annie!_

"Do Ryan and Keith know?" he asked. Paul nodded. Frank pressed his hands to his temples and closed his eyes.

"Ryan's going to be sent away," said Paul quietly and Frank's eyes snapped open.

"What! Why?"

"Because his Dad beats him. They're going to put him into care."

"But that's good, right?"

Paul shrugged. "Only if he's found not guilty of assault next week. If he's found guilty then he'll be sent to a Detention Centre for Young Offenders."

Frank sank onto the couch. "I'm sorry, Paul."

"Don't be, it's not your fault."

Frank looked up at him. "But I'm the one that went to the police."

"They would have found out anyway," said Paul. "Ryan is out of control. He needs help."

"That's why you went to Principle Wood yesterday," Frank guessed.

Paul nodded sadly. "I suppose I already knew, but it was only when I saw Ryan pull that knife on you that I really admitted it to myself. I guess I should have known that day with Mrs. Deagan, but I panicked. All I could think about was protecting Ryan."

"He's your best friend."

"It was still wrong. And it was even worse dragging you into it. You were right, we shouldn't have left her."

Frank didn't know how to respond.

Paul gave Frank a strangled sort of smile. "I'd better go. Dad's in the car outside, I'm grounded because of all this. But he agreed with me that you should know."

"Thanks, Paul."

Paul shrugged again. "Don't mention it." He turned to leave but stopped before he reached the door. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"You should know that Keith and I have agreed to tell the Judge that the only reason you ran away was because we forced you. I know you would have stayed with Mrs. Deagan until help arrived."

Frank stared speechless at Paul who mumbled, "see ya, Frank."

Before Frank could respond, Paul was gone. A minute later, his father entered the room.

"Was that Paul?" asked Fenton and Frank nodded, still stunned.

"What did he want?"

"Mrs. Deagan died today," said Frank blankly.

Fenton looked horrified. "Frank, I'm so sorry." When Frank didn't answer, he added, "it's not your fault. You do know that, don't you?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Frank answered. "It was something Paul said, about how I would have stayed if they hadn't made me leave. He's right, I would have." Frank felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Saying the words aloud made them sink in and Frank finally realised he wasn't a terrible person. He had been feeling responsible for the attack, but now he understood he wasn't. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it; it would have happened even if he wasn't there.

"Paul said that?" asked Fenton, surprised.

Frank nodded again. "They're going to tell the Judge next week that they forced me to leave the scene."

"They are?" Fenton was shocked now.

Frank snapped out of his trance. "Dad, I'm sorry about today," he said softly.

"Frank, you don't have…"

"No, I do!" Frank insisted as he stood up. "None of this is your fault. I was just looking for someone to blame and I lashed out. I'm sorry."

Fenton hugged his son. "It's okay," he said sadly. "I know the feeling."

**XXX**

The next afternoon, Con and Sam arrived with the news that they had tracked down the Courier.

"You have?!" Fenton exclaimed. "What did he say? Can he ID this guy?"

Sam shook his head uncomfortably. "No. The order was called in and when the Courier went to pick the package up, it was at an abandoned house. The package was there with the money, but no sign of the person who placed the call. The Police have already checked the house but they found nothing."

"So they Courier just picked up this package for delivery without even questioning how strange that was?" asked Fenton incredulously.

"The guy left him a big tip so he wouldn't question it," said Con in disgust. "Money talks and all that."

Disappointment threatened to overwhelm Fenton once more. "So we're right back where we started," he said hopelessly.

"Not quite," said Sam. "The lab found a print on Joe's jacket. They're running it through AFIS right now, trying to find a match."

Fenton's heart soared. _A fingerprint?_ That was beyond what he had hoped for. "How long will it take?"

"Probably a couple of hours," Con replied. "The print was pretty smudged and it's going to take some time to narrow it down to the nearest matches."

Fenton nodded unhappily. The idea of more waiting unnerved him. "What about the blood?" he asked quietly. "Was it…?"

Sam and Con glanced at one another, then Sam nodded. "It was Joe's," he answered unhappily.

Laura and Gertrude had been sitting on the couch, listening to the conversation. At this, Laura spoke up. "Could the lab tell…did they say what happened?" she asked shakily. Neither Con nor Sam answered and Laura spoke again, her voice stronger. "I need to know."

"The tear in the jacket was caused by a knife," said Sam, not looking at her. "It looks like Joe was slashed."

"But it wasn't a life threatening wound!" Con hastened to add.

Laura snorted angrily. "Oh, well that makes me feel a whole lot better! Your son was stabbed with a knife but it wasn't life threatening!"

"Laura!" Fenton reproached her quietly. "You did ask."

Laura opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" said Frank at once. He had been sitting unnoticed in the corner, but this was one conversation he didn't want to hear.

Opening the front door, Frank found a short, elderly man with glasses, standing on the front porch. He had a nervous, agitated manner and spoke with a high pitched voice. "Is Fenton Hardy here?" he asked. "It's urgent that I speak with him!"

Wordlessly, Frank led the man into the living room. "Dad, there's someone here to see you."

Fenton stared at the man, not recognising him.

"Mr. Hardy," the old man addressed him. "I'm so sorry to barge in unannounced like this, but it's very urgent!"

Fenton smiled apologetically at the man. "I'm afraid I'm not actually taking any cases at the moment, Mr…I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Johnson. Hurd Johnson," answered the man. "And I'm not looking for you to take on a case."

Fenton blinked. "You're not?"

The old man shook his head. "No. I was on my way here to see you when I heard on the news that your son was missing."

Fenton swallowed. "That's right."

"You see, that's what I was coming to see you about. I wanted to warn you."

"Warn me?" Fenton was confused.

The old man nodded emphatically. "I know who has your son."

Stunned silence greeted this pronouncement.

"Now, look here," said Fenton angrily. "If this is some sort of joke…"

"It's not a joke," the man insisted. "The man who has your son is Miles Denton."

_**A/N**: Thanks to all the fantastic wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter!! I'm sure most authors will agree with me when I say you can never get enough of readers feedback!_

**Pen and Paper71**: Thank you, gald you like it!

**Mel**: Thanks, that's what I think too. I quite like Frank a little moody!

**Shee1**: You're addicted? Oh cool! Nobody's ever said that bout one of my stories before...thanks for making my day!

**Chopstick legend**: The Hardy's friends are there, it's just Callie and Iola who haven't made an appearance...yet! Thanks for reviewing!

**Paperdaisies**: You know something? You always give the best reviews! It gives me such a buzz to read your comments, thank you!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Everyone in the room looked at Fenton to explain who Miles Denton was. To their surprise, he looked just as confused as they did.

"Who?" he asked.

"Miles Denton," repeated Mr. Johnson, removing a photograph from his jacket and handing it to Fenton. "You don't know him, but I daresay you knew his father, John Denton."

Fenton's expression switched from one of confusion to one of sadness as he stared at the photo. "John Denton? That's a name I haven't heard in years."

"Who's John Denton?" asked Laura, as Frank took the photo from his father's hands.

"Someone I knew a long time ago," said Fenton sadly. "I was a rookie and John was a senior officer. He brought me on my first ride along." Fenton smiled at the memory. "John was the sort of guy you only read about; full time police officer, volunteer fireman in his spare time, great husband and father, good friend. I've never met anyone like him since."

"What happened to him?" asked Sam, surprised he had never heard this story before.

"We were called to the scene of a domestic disturbance one night," said Fenton, closing his eyes as he remembered. "A young couple with a baby. The reports said the husband was beating his wife. When we came to the door, it was obvious she'd been beaten but she was so terrified that she told us she'd walked into a door."

Fenton shook his head angrily. "The husband was clearly on something and he was holding the baby, so we could see that's why she wouldn't leave. John played dumb; he told them every couple fights, but could they please not shout so loud that they disturbed their neighbours. He even pretended that he'd had one or two 'domestics' in his time - as if John and Grace could ever fight - and that they usually resolved them without disturbing the neighbours. Then he asked if he could hold the baby."

"What happened?" asked Gertrude.

"The husband thought he was dealing with a kindred spirit," said Fenton bitterly, opening his eyes. "He gave the baby to John without a second thought. Once John had the baby, he passed her straight to her mother and told me to take them both out of there. The husband lost it as I was leading them out the door and produced a gun. He shot the mother in the arm and was going to fire again."

The silence in the living room was thick as Fenton paused before continuing. "Just as the man fired, John threw himself in front of us. The bullet went straight through his liver and spleen. He bled out before the ambulance could get there."

Fenton fell quiet as he finished his story.

"What happened to the mother and baby?" Laura whispered.

"They survived," Fenton answered. "Backup arrived and the husband was arrested, but he hung himself in prison. Everyone figured it was because he was afraid of reprisals for killing an officer."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" asked Laura.

"John died in my arms," said Fenton softly. "It's something I'd rather forget than remember."

"What I don't understand is why this man's son would blame you," Gertrude commented. "It wasn't your fault."

"I don't really understand either," Fenton admitted. "I never met John's kids, Grace took them away after the funeral. She said there were too many memories in New York."

"I think I can explain a little," said Mr. Johnson. "After John's death, life got very difficult for the Dentons. A Widow's pension isn't much to survive on, and the oldest boy had to leave school and go out to work. Then one of the younger boys shot himself at sixteen. Miles was the one who discovered the body." The old man shook his head sadly. "He was never the same after that."

"So he went after my son?" said Laura angrily. "I know he suffered a lot of tragedy in his life, but that's not a good enough reason to take an eleven year old child from his family and _hurt_ him!" Angry tears welled up in Laura's eyes.

"Does he blame me for everything that went wrong in his life?" asked Fenton quietly.

"I think so," Mr. Johnson admitted.

"That's ridiculous!" snapped Gertrude. "How could he blame you?"

"He had no one else to blame," said Fenton. "The man who killed his father was dead, but he needed to blame _someone_. It was only natural he'd pick the person who was there when his father died."

"You're a very astute man, Mr. Hardy," said Mr. Johnson. "I can see how you've earned your reputation. And you're right; Miles needed an outlet for his anger and unfortunately you were it. His brother told me that he once heard him say you should have died that night instead of John."

"Um…sorry to interrupt," said Sam suddenly. "But…where's Frank?"

Everyone looked around at where Frank had been standing. There was no sign of the teenager. Fenton noticed at once that the photo of Miles Denton was gone too.

_Dammit, Frank! _he groaned silently.

**XXX**

Frank peddled furiously through Bayport. The second he had heard his father start to tell the story about John Denton, Frank had felt a spurt of impatience and disappeared. He was tired of talk, he wanted action.

_I'll find Joe myself! _he vowed, taking with him the photograph of the man who had kidnapped his brother. Frank arrived outside the Junior High School with seconds to spare before the bell rang.

As he caught his breath, Frank spotted who he was looking for. "Chet! Hey, Chet! CHET!"

The stout boy turned and his mouth dropped open in shock when he saw Frank. Quickly, he raced over to Frank. "Frank! What are you doing here?"

"No time to explain! Have you got your bike with you, and where are Phil and Tony? I need your help."

"Frank, it's January. Of course I don't have my bike with me."

"Where are Phil and Tony?"

"They should be here. We arranged to…there they are! PHIL! TONY!" called Chet suddenly, waving wildly. Frank spotted the other boys hurrying over to them.

"Frank, what are you…?" Phil began but Frank cut him off.

"I'll explain on the way, I need your help. Have you guys got your bikes with you?"

"Yeah," said Phil.

"Me too," added Tony.

"Great! Sorry, Chet, but you don't have a bike so…"

"Hey, you're going nowhere without me!" said Chet indignantly.

"My house is just five minutes from here," said Tony. "He can always borrow one of my brothers' bikes."

"Okay, it's on the way anyway," said Frank. "But I hope you can run, Chet and I'm not joking!"

Ten minutes later, with Chet comfortably saddled (and amid much muttering about Frank running him ragged), the boys were cycling briskly through Bayport. Frank had filled them in on what had happened and they were now calling into every shop with Miles' photo to ask if anyone had seen him, as well as keeping their eyes on the street. They had been searching for nearly half an hour when they struck it lucky. The manager of the hardware store had seen Miles several times!

"He was in here all the time 'bout two, three weeks ago," the man told them when they asked. "Bought a lot of bricks and cement. Bought a darn big bolt for a door too! Said he was fixing a shed for his pet lamb or something like that."

"When was he in last?" asked Frank, unable to believe his luck.

The man scratched his chin. "Hmmm. I think he was in yesterday. That's right, he bought a shovel yesterday. Said his lamb was sick and he might have to bury it."

Frank turned white and Phil asked hurriedly, "any idea where he lives?"

"Nope." The old man shook his head. "Although my assistant, Brent, thinks he lives outside town, near the woods somewhere. He doesn't like the man much, thinks he's strange. I thought he seemed a nice enough fella myself."

"Really? Out near the woods?" said Frank, attempting to keep his voice polite. "Did Brent have any idea where?"

"Well, he kept seeing him in that greasy spoon café on the outskirts of town, _Macie's _or something. Say, what's with all the questions anyway? You kids up to something?"

"No. Thanks for all your help!" Frank called as they hurried out the door.

The boys cycled as fast as they could to the café on the outskirts of town. When they got there, Frank decided it would be best if he stayed outside, just in case the man was in there and recognised him.

"And we can get a soda while we're in there," said Chet, puffing from his exertions. "Hey," he added defensively, as he saw Frank raise his eyebrows. "We'll look less suspicious if we actually buy something."

"Good point," Frank conceded. "But be quick."

While the boys were in the café, Frank stayed across the road and swept his sharp eyes up and down the nearly deserted street. This was definitely one of the rougher areas of town and Frank knew his father would be furious if he knew where he was. But Frank didn't care, all he cared about right now was finding Joe.

Suddenly, a man came out of the store behind him and nearly knocked the boy over. "Sorry," the man mumbled distractedly as he reached down to pick up the newspaper he had dropped.

"That's okay," said Frank as he glanced at the man. His whole body froze.

_The man was Miles Denton!_

He didn't seem to recognise Frank though, and rushed up the street looking agitated.

Immediately Frank dashed across the road. "GUYS! COME ON!" he screamed in the door of the café ignoring the startled looks of the other patrons. The boys came running out.

"What? What is it?"

"What's going on?"

But Frank was already flinging his leg over his bike. "Come on, hurry!" he yelled keeping his eye on Denton who was now getting into an old Ford Mustang.

As the car pulled out, Frank tore after it, followed closely by his bewildered friends.

**XXX**

Joe found himself being shaken out of a fever-induced sleep.

"Joe! Come on! Wake up, please!" a voice begged.

"Wha?" he mumbled drowsily.

"JOE!" Someone shook him harder.

With superhuman effort, Joe cracked open his eyes. Kevin was standing over him, a frantic expression on his face.

Joe blinked and sat up slowly. He felt groggy and feverish. "Wh-what's wrong?" he wheezed and started to cough.

"You're getting out of here!" said Kevin as he pulled Joe to his feet.

Instantly, the boy was awake. "I am?" he croaked.

"Yes, now move!" Kevin pulled him towards the door.

Blinking and stumbling against the light, Joe followed Kevin. His head felt thick and his feverish mind had trouble processing how to move. It took several minutes for Joe to even realise he was in a basement.

"You're Fenton Hardy's kid!" said Kevin, as he helped Joe up the basement steps. "Why didn't you tell me you were Fenton Hardy's kid?"

"I didn't know it was important," Joe mumbled, then swallowed painfully. His throat and chest were on fire.

"Of course it's important!" hissed Kevin. "That's why he took you! He was never going to let you go…I thought he would but once I found out who you really were, I knew he wouldn't! He'll kill you if I don't get you out of here!"

Coming through a tiny, neat kitchen, Joe stumbled and fell. Kevin caught him before he hit the ground. "Snap out of it, Joe!" he hissed. "We have to get out of here before he gets back!"

Joe tried to protest but found he didn't have the energy. His body was weakened by days of abuse and neglect. The next thing he knew, Joe was outside. He inhaled deeply, then coughed and choked harshly. But the boy didn't care, the fresh air felt wonderful after his stale cell.

Joe's legs buckled again, but this time Kevin half-carried, half-dragged him across the gravel. Joe was dimly aware of his feet hurting. "I have no shoes," he said hoarsely.

"It doesn't matter, we're taking the car."

Joe then caught sight of the brown mustang and became aware that they were surrounded by trees. "Are we in the woods?" he asked.

"Yes," said Kevin, as he yanked open the car door and motioned for Joe to get in. Slowly, Joe crawled in. Kevin slammed the door and raced around to the other side.

"Couldn't believe it when I saw your picture in the paper," he muttered as he fumbled with the keys. "Then I saw you were Fenton Hardy's kid and I knew I had to get you out of here. I'm afraid of him, but not enough to let him kill a little kid!"

Joe closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat of the car. He was just so tired…

"Shit!" he heard Kevin exclaim as he made several attempts to start the engine. "I just drove this thing back here, what's wrong with it?!" The engine continued to splutter and stall before finally dying altogether. "_SHIT!" _Kevin cried again. "Come on, Joe. We gotta do it on foot!"

Joe heard a car door slam again. Then his own door was opened and he felt himself being tugged from the car. "Joe, if you want to live, _move it_!" Kevin's panicked voice sounded in his ear and Joe opened his eyes.

Determined, the boy forced himself to move. _I'm going home, I'm going home_, he told himself over and over as they set off into the woods.

They had been walking for just ten minutes when Joe noticed Kevin throwing agitated glances back over his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked, but Kevin never answered. He just increased his pace.

Groaning, Joe tried to keep up. His whole body ached and he kept cutting his feet on the stones and twigs scattered about the ground. Joe continued his mantra to entice his body to move. _I'm going home, I'm going home, I'm going home._

Suddenly, Kevin stopped and spun around. "I heard something!" he whispered frantically, as he peered into the trees behind them.

Joe looked tiredly at where Kevin was looking. He couldn't see or hear anything. "I don't hear anything, Kevin."

Kevin put his hands to his head and massaged his temples. "Sorry, Joe. I have a headache and I guess I'm just overwrought."

Joe glanced at him, finally fully realising what Kevin was doing for him. "Kevin, thanks for helping me," he said softly.

But Kevin wasn't listening. He was staring through the trees again, a look of pure terror on his face. "He's coming! Joe, run! He's coming!"

Joe stared at Kevin, but he seemed beyond rational. "JOE, RUN!" he screamed and shoved the boy. "NOW!"

Frightened, Joe turned and ran in the other direction. He found it difficult to move without Kevin to lean on, but the sounds of muffled yelling was echoing behind him and Joe forced himself to run.

As he pushed through the trees, Joe heard a loud roar and then a voice bellowed, "JOEEEY!"

_**A/N:** My brother left for Australia today and he's going to be gone for a whole year...as a result, I'm feeling pretty depressed and haven't the heart to thank everyone individually who reviewed the last chapter but I didn't want you to have to wait for this one either as I think you deserve regular updates. So I'm just going to say thanks a million for all the wonderful reviews. You guys are the best. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"I don't believe this!" Fenton groaned as Laura gasped in horror.

"Where's he gone?" asked Mr. Johnson.

"Out looking for Denton," Sam answered grimly.

The old man looked worried. "Oh, dear," he said.

Con Riley was already on the phone to Chief Collig telling him about Miles Denton. "Yes, Chief," he was saying. "Okay, we will. Bye." Con hung up and looked straight at Fenton.

"Chief Collig is sending out some patrol cars to look for Frank," Con told him. "He's also trying to track down any apartment, house or motel room that Denton might have stayed in."

"And in the meantime, _we're_ going to drive through Bayport keeping our eyes peeled for Frank and Denton," said Fenton. "I'm not sitting on my ass any longer."

"You promised the doctor you'd rest!" Laura spoke up at once. "Fenton, you're not physically able…"

"I can rest when all this is over!" Fenton cut her off. "I'm not going to argue with you on this, Laura. I'm going."

Laura stared unhappily at her husband. "Fine. But keep in touch and let me know what's happening," she said.

Sam Radley had been staring suspiciously at Mr. Johnson, making the old man shuffle uncomfortably. "What I'd like to know is why you didn't come to warn the Hardys sooner," he said suddenly. "And how do you know Denton?"

Mr. Johnson coughed awkwardly. "I'm afraid that's a rather delicate matter…"

"To hell with delicate matter!" Sam growled. "That bastard has held an eleven year old kid prisoner for the last seven days, and now his thirteen year old brother has just gone AWOL! I don't think this guy _deserves _discretion, do you?"

Mr. Johnson nodded sadly. "Let's just say I've been a good friend of the Dentons for a long time," he began. "Last year, Grace Denton passed away and Miles moved back to New York. I kept in touch regularly, calling Miles once a week. Last month, he told me he was going out of town to visit an old friend. After two weeks when I hadn't heard from him, I called his apartment. There was no answer so I assumed he wasn't back yet. But when I tried several times over the past two weeks with no luck, I got worried. I drove up to New York last night. Miles' neighbour told me that he had gone to visit his brother and I knew at once that something was wrong."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Gertrude, confused.

"I mentioned already that Miles' brother shot himself?" The others nodded and Mr. Johnson continued. "Well, whilst he and Miles were very close, Miles and his other brother don't get on; they despise one another in fact."

"Fair enough," said Fenton, nodding. "But how did you know he was coming after my son?"

"Miles had given me a key to his apartment," Mr. Johnson explained. "Once the neighbour told me where he had gone, I used it. His living room was completely papered with newspaper cuttings about Fenton Hardy, but one in particular took pride of place. It was from a paper called the _Bayport Gazette _and it had an article about a local festival in it. There was a picture of Fenton and his family."

The old man paused, removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. "Miles had drawn a noose around the neck of each of your sons," he told Fenton. "I knew then where he'd gone and set off to either warn you or stop him. I'm the only one he trusts and I thought I might get him to listen to me."

Suddenly, Con's phone rang interrupting the old man. Everyone looked at him expectantly as he answered the phone. "Hello?…..There is!…..Okay, Chief, we'll meet you there!" Con hung up.

"That was Chief Collig," he said. "He found nothing locally on Miles Denton. But there was a cabin in Bayport woods rented to a Kevin Denton. The Chief is on his way there now."

Mr. Johnson gasped in alarm and they all turned to look at him. His face had gone ashen-white. "Miles' brother?" he said in agitation. "Oh, this is worse than I thought!"

"I thought you said they don't get on?" asked Fenton, baffled.

"Miles and _Adam_ don't get on," Mr. Johnson told him. "Miles and Kevin were very close."

"Were?" Fenton repeated, puzzled.

Mr. Johnson nodded sadly. "Kevin Denton shot himself ten years ago."

**XXX**

Frank pedalled furiously in an effort to keep up with the car in front of him. It wasn't long before the car turned off the main road onto a smaller back road. As the car trundled on, Frank called back to his friends who were starting to weaken behind his manic pace. "Come on!" he yelled. "We're going to lose him!"

"Lose who?" Tony panted. "Frank, what's going on?"

Frank didn't answer, the car was at least seventy yards ahead of him and had just turned onto another road out of sight. He pushed himself faster, afraid of losing it. Reaching the turn, Frank looked in the direction that the car had gone. There was no sign of it.

"DAMMIT!" he roared in frustration, slapping his bike.

The others joined him. "Frank?" Chet prodded nervously.

"We lost him!" Frank wailed. "We were so close!"

"_Who_? Frank, what are you talking about?" asked Phil, shooting Tony a look.

"Denton! He was in that car!" Frank looked close to tears, and the boys glanced at one another uncomfortably.

"Lets go down the road," Chet suggested finally. "We might find some clue telling us where he went."

The four boys set off down the road in silence. After ten minutes of careful searching, Tony cried out, "look! Over there!" The boys rushed to where he was pointing and discovered a small path into the woods that had been hidden by several loose bushes.

"These were deliberately put across here," said Frank grimly.

"But why?" Chet demanded. "What's the point?"

"To keep anyone from finding this road," Phil guessed. "Most people would drive right by these bushes without guessing it was there."

"So whoever did it had a purpose," said Frank. "Come on!"

The boys pulled the bushes aside and set off down the path. However, the path was so muddy and slippery that it was difficult for them to cycle on, especially Chet whose bike was older than the others.

"How does your brother use this thing?" Chet gasped, as his bike slid and swerved in the mud. "It's so awkward!"

"Yeah, well, Angelo is awkward!" Tony retorted.

"Guys, this is useless!" said Frank suddenly. "We'll be faster on foot."

The dark-haired boy climbed off his bike and left it up against a tree. He looked expectantly at the others who quickly copied him.

"Onwards?" asked Phil, looking at Frank.

"Onwards," Frank answered.

Fifteen minutes later, the boys still hadn't discovered anything and Frank was growing agitated. "Maybe we came the wrong way!" he fretted.

"We can always go back," Tony pointed out.

Only Phil seemed to disagree with this idea. "I don't know. That car disappeared awfully quick and we didn't find anything else on the other road. Besides, this guy had a car, he was bound to be quicker."

"But we could waste valuable time if we're going the wrong way!" Frank argued.

Phil had opened his mouth to respond when suddenly there came a faint cry of someone yelling in the woods. The boys froze, listening to the dim sounds.

"That way!" Frank cried, pointing to the left.

As the boys crashed through the trees, Frank heard a voice in the distance bellow, "JOEEEY!"

**XXX**

Joe ran for his life. Kevin was right, Miles was back!

Suddenly he stumbled, falling hard on his injured arm. The pain was almost blinding. "Ahhhh" hissed Joe, through gritted teeth.

"JOEY!" he heard Miles roar again.

Joe realised he was never going to outrun the man. He was weak and ill, he had no shoes, and he was exhausted. Frantically the boy looked around and spotted a large, dense bush. Shakily, he got to his feet and limped over to it.

Ignoring the thorns that scratched at him, Joe crawled into the centre of the bush and tried to rearrange the leaves and branches so that he was covered. Then he waited, silent and fearful. Minutes later, he heard the sound of branches been pushed aside and a voice called, "you can't hide from me forever! You know I'll find you!"

Joe tried to stifle his wheezy breathing. For the first time in his life the boy was glad of his small size, it now enabled him to hide from his kidnapper. He could hear Miles moving around muttering to himself, and to Joe's growing alarm, he realised he was about to cough. Desperately he suppressed it. _Please not now! Please not now! _he prayed, as his chest burned with the desire to cough. Half-holding his breath, Joe nearly turned purple with the effort of restraining the cough.

After several agonising minutes, he heard Miles move away but he still didn't dare cough. Finally, when he could no longer hold it in, the boy let out one loud, hacking cough. Terrified, he listened to see if Miles had heard him.

It was then that Joe became aware of faint voices calling and pricked his ears to listen. Was it just his imagination or were they calling his name? He strained his ears and heard a very definite shout. "JOE!"

His heart soared hopefully. Joe would know that voice anywhere, it was his brother! The boy opened his mouth to respond, then quickly shut it. What if Miles heard him? Slowly, Joe crawled out from the bushes. He decided it would be a much better idea if he followed the sound of Frank's voice.

Slowly and painfully, Joe moved in the direction of Frank's voice. It was slow going, but Joe was rewarded when he heard his brother call him again, this time from somewhere very nearby.

Deciding it was now safe to answer, Joe opened his mouth to respond just as a large hand was clamped over it. A strong arm encircled him from behind and pulled the boy off his feet. Before he could react, Joe was propelled forward and slammed face first into the trunk of a tree.

His head swimming, Joe felt a body pin him to the tree from behind. He struggled desperately but the grip tightened and a voice spoke.

"Stupid little Joey! Did you really think you could escape from me?"

_**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews and the nice words regarding my brother (not so lonely now that a few days have passed)._

**The Silent Rumble**: Feeling better already! Thanks a mill for all your kind words!

**Penguinlover**: Nearing the end of the story now, I'm sure you'll be glad to know! Thanks for the review!

**CA**: Well, here's the next chapter. Hope you liked it as much as the last one.

**Paperdaisies**: If I get the chance I will visit him, I'd love to see Australia. Thanks again for the great review, hope you enjoy this cliffhanger too! evil grin

**astalder27**: This chapter should answer the questions in your last review...although I'm sure it raises many more! Thanks for the review!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Everyone stared in confusion at Hurd Johnson.

"I don't understand," said Con. "Why is the cabin registered to Kevin then?"

Mr. Johnson sighed. "I'm afraid that is a long and complicated story. And I won't delay you by telling it here. I fear time is running out for your son, Mr. Hardy. Both of them if Miles gets his hands on Frank as well."

"Then you can tell us on the way to the cabin," Fenton Hardy told him grimly. "I want to know what we're dealing with."

The old man nodded. "I'll help in any way I can."

Fenton turned to his wife who was now standing pale-faced beside the couch. "Laura, stay here. I'll ring as soon as we have news."

Laura nodded and crossed to her husband's side. She hugged him tightly and whispered, "Fenton, please be careful, and please bring the boys home safe!"

Fenton nodded as he returned the hug, then turned to the waiting men. "Ready?" he asked and they nodded. "Okay, lets go!"

The men left the house and clambered into Con Riley's patrol car. As Con drove off, Fenton turned and addressed Mr. Johnson. "Okay, spill. What's going on? And how exactly do you know Miles Denton?"

"I'm his Psychiatrist," the old man answered softly. "I have been for nearly ten years now."

"Psychiatrist?" said Sam slowly. "Does that mean…?"

"That Miles is mentally ill?" finished Mr. Johnson. "Yes, it does. Miles suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Schizophrenia?" asked Con.

"Not quite," Mr. Johnson answered. "Although the two are frequently mixed up, they're not the same. Schizophrenics suffer from hallucinations and delusions. For example, a schizophrenic may fully believe that other people are out to get them, or that thoughts are being planted in their heads by external forces. Sensory perceptions that appear real to them, can take place without stimulation of the relevant sensory organ."

"Huh?" said Con, confused.

"That basically means that shadows can take on an actual physical form," explained Mr. Johnson. "Or trickling water can become the sound of someone's voice. These hallucinations or delusions can often prompt a schizophrenic to act in a certain way, but there is no actual splitting of the personality."

"But there is with Multiple Personality Disorder?" guessed Fenton.

"It's what _defines_ it," answered Mr. Johnson. "MPD is characterised by having at least one alter personality that controls behaviour. It's what Freud would have called 'a splitting of the ego.'"

"And Miles has this MPD," said Fenton. "How does it affect him?"

"Well, the first thing you should know is that MPD develops in childhood. There have been no known cases of an adult suddenly developing it," Mr Johnson told him. "MPD develops as a response to a traumatic event or events in childhood. It provides a coping mechanism for an individual confronting painful, traumatic situations."

"His father's shooting and his brother's suicide," Fenton guessed.

"Yes, but it's not so simple as that," said Mr. Johnson. "I don't know if John ever told you, but Miles was kidnapped as a child."

"WHAT?!" cried Fenton and Sam simultaneously.

Mr. Johnson nodded. "He was seven. It was a random kidnapping and they found him twenty-four hours later. But it was also a violent rescue, and Miles witnessed the shooting of his kidnapper. The man died in some pain and of course Miles would have remembered that when his father died. You can only imagine how he felt when his brother shot himself."

"Pretty lousy," Sam admitted.

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson sadly. "And especially since Kevin was his twin."

"His twin?" Fenton echoed. "I never knew John had twins."

"He never defined them by it," Mr. Johnson explained. "Miles once told me that they were each special and unique in their father's eyes. He loved them for being themselves. Of course, the poignant irony is that Miles' alter-ego is his brother Kevin."

"The name on the cabin," Con mused. "Which reminds me, we're nearly at Bayport Woods. I need to call Chief Collig for directions to the cabin."

While Con was on the phone, Fenton turned to Mr. Johnson again. "So how can you be sure who…I mean which personality has Joe?" he asked, struggling to get his head around this.

"It's Miles," replied Mr. Johnson at once. "Treatment of MPD depends on building up enough trust for the patient to be able to speak frankly about their feelings, and especially for the most destructive and frightening parts of the personality. The parts that carry the most pain need the most help. In this instance, Miles himself is the most violent aspect of his personality, because his memories are of his kidnapper's and his brother's shooting; although both are somewhat confused in his head. Amnesia is a common symptom of MPD, which allows sufferers to exist in their separate states."

"I'm confused," said Fenton.

"When Miles is Miles, he thinks Kevin is still alive. His memories of finding his brother's body are confused and disjointed; therefore Miles has attributed them to something else. Miles as Kevin has experienced less trauma, so he is of a gentler nature. However, Miles as Kevin is afraid of himself, or rather, he's afraid of Miles. His memories of Miles are depersonalised, so when he remembers Miles' violent episodes, he remembers them as an observer rather than a perpetrator. In other words, in each of his personas, Miles truly believes he is that one person."

"No wonder Miles is fucked-up!" said Sam. "I'm getting dizzy just listening to this."

Mr. Johnston ignored him and continued to address Fenton. "Mr. Hardy, Miles' mental health has declined considerably since his mother's death last year. I suspected as much whenever I spoke to him on the phone, and hearing Kevin's name only confirmed it. Up until last year, I had made great progress with Miles. His episodes as Kevin were short and infrequent, and he was far less violent as himself. Unfortunately, it sounds as though Miles has regressed." Mr. Johnson regarded Fenton seriously. "I should warn you that someone experiencing disassociation can emotionally distance themselves from any situation - particularly ones they can't manage."

"In other words, he has no qualms about what he does to Joe," said Fenton through gritted teeth. "Yeah, we already discovered that."

Mr. Johnson fell silent.

"Where are we going?" asked Fenton after several minutes, as he noticed Con turning off the road onto a dirty track leading into the woods.

"The cabin's down here," Con responded and Fenton realised he had been so engrossed in Mr. Johnson's tale that he hadn't noticed that Con was off the phone.

"Is Chief Collig there yet?" he asked quickly.

Con shook his head, his eyes on the road. "No. They found four bikes on the road that looked like they belonged to some kids. Chief Collig thinks they weren't able to cycle them on this muddy track."

"_Frank_!" Fenton hissed in understanding.

"Yup, and it looks like he brought friends," said Con grimly.

The men travelled in silence until they came to a group of patrol cars parked on the road. An ambulance and a small group of paramedics were clustered a little further away. Spotting Chief Collig, they climbed out quickly.

"Any news?" asked Fenton at once.

The chief shook his head. "No, SWAT are clearing the place as we speak. Don't worry," he added gently, as he caught sight of Fenton's worried face. "They know about Joe, they won't go in with gun's blazing."

Just then, the walkie-talkie on his belt sounded. "Chief? Cabin is cleared and secured. Repeat, cabin is cleared and secured."

Fenton didn't wait, he took off running in the direction of the cabin. He reached the door and raced in. "JOE!" he called. "JOE!"

"There's no one here, Sir," said a young man in a SWAT uniform appearing at Fenton's side.

"What do you mean there's no one here!" barked Chief Collig, entering the cabin with Sam. "Where is everyone?"

The young man was about to respond when a voice echoed up from the basement. "Chief? I think you need to see this!"

Quickly, Fenton, Chief Collig and Sam raced down the stairs to the basement. They discovered the most senior member of the SWAT team standing at the back of the basement, peering into a boiler room of some sort.

"What is it?" Fenton demanded as they joined the man. In response, the man gestured into the room beyond.

Fenton peered into the tiny room and caught sight of a bricked up window and small cot. Quickly he stepped into the freezing cold room and looked around. There was a toilet in the corner, but aside from the cot, it was the only thing in the room.

"This is a cell," said Fenton grimly as Sam joined him.

Sam nodded. "And there's blood on the cot," he commented quietly, glancing at the small bed.

The two men leaned over the cot and examined the mattress and ragged blanket.

"The stains are near the top of the bed," said Fenton trying to remain professional. "Which means the injury was on the upper half of the body."

"Like an arm?" said Sam gently.

Fenton nodded, unable to speak.

"Damn, it's cold in here!" a voice sounded behind them and they turned around to see that Con had joined them. The tiny room shrank considerably.

"Forensics found these," said Con, handing a pair of bagged sneakers that obviously belonged to a child to Fenton.

Fenton stared at the shoes in his hands. "They're Joe's," he said hoarsely.

"Which means we've found our man," said Con quietly.

Fenton didn't answer. He stared around the cell that had held his son prisoner for the last seven days and pain welled up in his chest.

Where was Joe now? Were they too late?

"Any sign of Frank?" he asked quietly, and Con shook his head.

Silently, the men returned upstairs. Mr. Johnson met them in the kitchen.

"Miles' car is out the back!" he called excitedly to them. "They must still be around here somewhere!"

The men went outside, where Fenton immediately spotted the brown mustang with the passenger door open.

"Looks like they left in a hurry," Sam commented, noticing the same thing.

Fenton opened his mouth to respond when suddenly they heard a wild, inhuman cry of pain from the woods.

**XXX**

_No! _thought Joe, his heart beating furiously against his chest in panic. Not now, not when he was so close to going home!

The boy struggled with every inch of strength he had left and was rewarded by a vicious squeezing of his wounded arm. Joe moaned as Miles hissed at him, "I thought I warned you about what happens to bad boys! You've made me very angry, Joey."

He squeezed Joe's wounded arm even tighter, and the boy cried out in pain. But his cries were muffled behind Miles' hand.

"You heard your brother, didn't you?" Miles whispered to him. "And off you went to find him. I bet you thought you were really clever in not answering him and giving away where you were. Stupid little Joey!" Miles shook him hard and Joe felt his face being scraped raw against the bark of the tree. "Didn't you know I only had to hide and wait for you to come to him?"

Joe closed his eyes. He could feel blood trickling down his arm, Miles had reopened the wound.

"Do you know what, Joey?" said Miles. "This is it. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to slit your throat and kill you. Then I'm going to chop you up into little pieces and send you back to Frank. What do you think about that?"

"Pmmh!" Joe tried to respond through Miles' large hand and Miles laughed harshly at his pathetic attempts to talk.

"I guess Fenton will know what loss feels like!" he spat viciously, his voice rising. "He might not know madness, but I swear he'll know loss!"

Miles squeezed Joe's arm as tightly as he could, then smiled at the boy's muffled screams of pain. "You know madness though, don't you, Joey? You know what it's like to never be quiet in your head, to feel pain with no relief!"

The man smiled at the boy's choked sobs. "Want to know what it feels like to die, Joey?"

"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!" a voice yelled.

Joe opened his eyes. Frank was standing not ten feet from them, his face a mask of anger and terror. Behind him stood Chet and two other boys, their faces shocked and horrified.

"Frankie boy!" said Miles jovially. "So glad you could join us. Joey and I were just having a little chat."

"Let him go!" said Frank threateningly, taking a step towards them.

Miles smiled gloatingly. "I'd stay there if I were you, Frankie. You wouldn't want anything to happen now, would you?"

Frank took several steps forward but Miles retreated, pulling Joe with him. "Stay there, Frankie," he warned. "I mean it!"

Frank stopped. Now that Miles had pulled Joe away from the tree, he could see his brother clearly. Joe's face was pale and exhausted, and his features were contorted in pain. Frank was alarmed to see blood on his face and dripping off the fingers of his right hand.

_He needs a doctor! _Frank realised, as Joe coughed harshly. Then he looked at Miles smiling face and clenched his fist. He would _kill_ this man for hurting his brother!

Frank took another step and Miles' stopped smiling. "You Hardys have real trouble with orders, don't you? One more step, Frankie, and you'll be sorry!"

"You can't hurt me!" said Frank, as he took another step forward. "I'm not scared of you!"

An ugly look crossed Miles' face. "Who said anything about hurting you?" he hissed. With one fluid motion, he dropped his hand from Joe's mouth and released his arms. Then he grabbed the boy's left arm and yanked it back and up.

Frank heard a sickening crunch, then Joe screamed; a shrill, horrific scream of anguish that made his heart stop.

"Joe," Frank croaked, but he didn't dare move closer. Miles now had his arm across Joe's neck. Joe's left arm hung uselessly by his side.

"I warned you," Miles hissed, as Joe sobbed in pain. "I warned you, Frankie, but you didn't listen. Maybe you'll listen to me now." Miles slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew a gun. Silently he pointed the gun at Joe's head.

"F-Frank," Joe moaned. "Help me!"

Frank felt sick and his heart hammered painfully against his chest. He wanted desperately to help his brother, but the look on Miles' face told him he would pull the trigger the second Frank took a step towards them. Behind him he could hear Chet hiss in anger.

Quietly Frank moved back to the boys, not talking his eyes off Joe and Miles.

"What do I do?" he asked them helplessly.

"Want me to go for help?" Phil suggested, his eyes clouded with worry.

"But we're too far from anywhere," Frank replied, his heart sinking. "And he might hurt Joe if he sees you taking off."

There's four of us," Tony pointed out. "Let's rush him!"

"No way!" Frank shook his head vehemently. "He pulls that trigger and Joe's dead."

"But there has to be _something_ we can do!" said Chet through gritted teeth.

Joe was watching the silent stalemate through a haze of excruciating pain. He was completely unaware of the gun Denton had pulled on him.

His heart had thudded painfully when his brother had stepped back. _Where's he going?_ Joe had asked himself worriedly, trying to push away the fear that Frank would abandon him. Now, watching as the boys just stood there, Miles' words came rushing back to haunt him.…_Good ol' Frankie wished he didn't have a brother and I granted that wish. I brought you here because Frank didn't want you anymore_…

"Frank?" Joe whispered, unable to speak any louder because of the pressure on his neck.

Only Miles heard him. "What did I tell you, Joey?" he whispered in the boy's ear. "Frankie doesn't want you anymore. He _let_ me hurt you, and he's just standing there now doing nothing. I could do anything I wanted to you right now and Frank would let me." Miles increased the pressure on Joe's neck to emphasize his point. "Anything," he repeated.

Unaware of what Miles was doing to his brother, Frank was trying desperately to come up with a plan to help Joe. So far he had come up with nothing.

"What the hell am I going to do?" Frank muttered, rubbing his eyes. He thought of offering himself to Miles in place of Joe, but then brushed the thought away. Miles would probably shoot Joe just for kicks because he knew it would affect Frank.

Frank could see the man was unhinged and he didn't dare do anything that would set him off. He glanced back at Joe and saw with a rush of shock that his brother had gone purple.

_While they were standing there talking, Miles was strangling Joe!_

Frank darted forward but Miles laughed loudly and waved the gun. Frank stopped dead in terror. It was obvious that Miles was giving him a choice; move and he'd shoot Joe, stay and he'd strangle him.

Either way, Joe was dead.

_Oh God, what do I do? _Frank thought in anguish, as Miles increased the pressure on Joe's neck.

Suddenly the sound of a gunshot cracked through the air and for one horrific moment, Frank thought Miles had shot his brother. He was proved wrong when Miles, screaming in pain, dropped the gun and released the pressure on Joe's throat.

Frank spun around and caught sight of his father aiming a gun. The expression on Fenton Hardy's face was deadly. "Let him go. Now," he said.

Frank became aware of several police officers aiming guns at Miles. He turned to look at Miles, expecting to see a defeated man.

But Miles had a strange expression on his face. "Well, well," he sneered. "The great detective! Have you come to witness your son's final moments?" And then he laughed, long and loud.

Frank shuddered. There was no real mirth in that laugh, just the enjoyment of seeing someone else in pain. It was the sound of sadism. And then Frank realised something else, something his father was too far away to see.

Miles was still strangling Joe.

With a roar of anger, Frank threw himself at Miles.

"FRANK! NO!" his father yelled as Frank catapulted into Miles and Joe. He could hear the other boys yelling behind him.

They hit the ground hard, and Frank struggled to free himself from the tangle of arms and legs. Miles, disregarding his injured hand, grabbed Joe's throat with blood-slicked fingers and squeezed as hard as he could, determined to finish what he started. Frank saw Joe go limp and swung savagely, his fist connecting with Miles' jaw.

Miles gave a strangled howl of anger and turned his attention to Frank. He swung wildly with one hand, the other still clutching Joe's throat. Frank lunged at Miles again, knocking him away from Joe.

"I'll kill you!" Frank shouted, as he pummelled him. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

But the big man, even with an injured hand, was more than a match for the teenager. He gave Frank a blow to the side of the head that stunned him, and was just winding up for a vicious blow that would crush the boy's skull when Con Riley and Sam Radley threw themselves on him. Quickly they overpowered him and pinned him to the ground.

As Con cuffed the man, Frank rolled over and stood up. Paramedics rushed past him to where Joe lay.

"Joe!" cried Frank. He tried to move forward but found himself being restrained by strong arms.

"No, Frank," he heard his father's voice. "Give the paramedics room to work."

Frank held his breath as the paramedics performed CPR on his brother. _Oh please, please, _he prayed silently. _Let him be alright! Please, please_…

After several agonising minutes, Joe gave a feeble gasp.

"Okay, he's breathing," said one of the paramedics.

Frank and his father were on the ground by Joe in a flash. Fenton moved to embrace his son but one of the paramedics held him back.

"His shoulder's been dislocated," the man explained. "We need to set it before he can be moved. Can you explain to him?"

Fenton swallowed as he glanced at Joe. The boy was groggy and weak, and Fenton knew how much this was going to hurt. "Joe?" he said gently. "Can you hear me?"

"Dad?" Joe whispered.

"Yes, Joe, it's me," said Fenton, and his heart welled at hearing his son's voice for the first time in seven long days.

"My shoulder hurts."

"I know, Joe," said Fenton, as he stroked his hair. "It's been dislocated."

Joe didn't answer. "It means the paramedics have to re-set it before they can take you to the hospital," Fenton explained gently, seeing that he didn't really understand.

"'Kay," Joe mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Joe, it's going to hurt," said Fenton, wincing as he said it.

Joe's eyes shot open. In his head, he heard Miles' voice taunting him…_this is going to hurt_…

"No, please," Joe whimpered a little as he started to cry. He couldn't handle any more pain.

"They have to, Joe," said Fenton, feeling as though he might cry himself.

The paramedics moved in again and Fenton stood up, dragging Frank with him. The teenager hadn't spoken, and Fenton deliberately positioned him so he wouldn't see what the paramedics were doing.

Nobody spoke for several minutes, then a howl of pain shattered the silence.

"What are you doing?" cried Frank as he tried to move towards his brother, but found himself being restrained by his father once more.

"Let me go!" he demanded, struggling. "They're hurting him!"

Fenton swallowed painfully. "They have to, Frank. They can't move him otherwise."

Frank stopped trying to get away and turned to look at his brother just as one of the paramedics moved. His eyes locked with Joe's.

And Joe realised Frank was standing deadly still.

_He's not even trying to stop them! _Joe realised with a sense of shock, then moaned as intense pain surged through his shoulder.

"We're nearly finished," the paramedic told him gently. "Then we'll get you out of here."

Several minutes later, they were easing him onto a stretcher. As they lifted it up, Fenton appeared beside Joe and took his hand. Joe was crying quietly.

"It's okay, Joe," Fenton told him. "It's over now, you're safe."

"Over?" a voice sneered from behind him and Fenton turned around. Miles was being led away by the police.

"It's not over," Miles told him. "Not by a long shot. He's safe, but the damage is still done! Isn't that right, Joey?" He leered at the boy who shuddered and Fenton stepped protectively in front of him, clenching his fists. Miles started to laugh.

"Get him out of here!" Con ordered.

They continued in silence back to the ambulance and patrol cars. Fenton and Frank walked beside Joe's stretcher, neither saying anything. Each one was dealing with a host of emotions; relief at getting Joe back, worry over his condition and red-hot anger at Miles.

So it was only when Frank tried to hug Joe as he was being placed in the ambulance that Fenton realised something was wrong.

Joe was refusing to look at or acknowledge his brother.

As the ambulance pulled out, sirens blazing, Frank remained rooted to the spot. Fenton put an arm over his eldest son's shoulder and guided him to the car. He felt sick as he realised that Denton was right.

The damage had been done.

_**A/N: **Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm really glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoy this one as much. It took me longer than any other chapter in the story to write._


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Fenton and Frank arrived at the hospital with Sam and Con minutes after the ambulance. There was no sign yet of Laura Hardy. Fenton had called her from the car to let her know they had found Joe and he was on his way to the hospital.

"Excuse me, where is Joe Hardy?" Fenton enquired frantically as he rushed to the front desk. "I'm Fenton Hardy, his father."

The nurse at the desk scanned her files and nodded. "The doctor is with him now, but if you take a seat he'll be out to speak with you shortly."

"But why can't we see him now?" Fenton objected, anxious to be with his son.

The nurse peered at him severely over wire-rimmed glasses. "Mr. Hardy, your son needs treatment not visitors," she scolded. "Kindly take a seat and the doctor will be out to see you soon." He knew there was no point arguing. Silently the small group took a seat.

Fenton's mind was whirling. As long as he lived, he knew he would never forget the scene in the woods that had greeted him when they had followed the scream from the cabin. One son bleeding in the arms of a lunatic with a gun to his head, the other frozen in helpless fear in front of them.

Fenton clenched his fists. When he had shot Denton, it wasn't his hand he was aiming for. He didn't knew whether it was fate or his shaking hands that had caused him to miss, but if he got the chance again, Fenton wouldn't miss.

_Then again_, he reflected wearily, _for Joe's sake_ _it was probably best I did miss_.

Sighing, the detective rubbed his temples. He had seen how traumatised Joe was, and had deliberately refrained from any outward show of violence in front of him, especially when Miles' had leered at him. But inside he was throttling Miles with his bare hands.

_Animal! _thought Fenton savagely. Any sympathy he had felt towards Miles' condition had disappeared the instant he had seen his battered child.

Quietly he glanced at Frank. The teenager was pale and scared looking, and appeared much younger than his thirteen years. Without saying a word, Fenton put his arm around him. He could tell Frank was rattled by Joe's reaction to him in the woods and frowned, troubled. The physical scars would heal, but Fenton didn't know what Denton had done to cause Joe to behave like that towards the brother he idolised. He just hoped it was something they could fix.

"Fenton Hardy?" a stern-faced doctor called.

Fenton jumped to his feet. "How's Joe?" he demanded.

The doctor didn't answer. "Mr. Hardy, can you come with me, please?" he asked, his face grave.

Fenton felt his heart plummet as the doctor turned and left the waiting room. With a terrified glance at Sam and Con, he followed the doctor.

"How's Joe?" he croaked, as he fell into step beside the serious-faced doctor.

"He's refusing to let us treat him," the doctor answered. "He's pulled out the IV and he's yelling at our staff. In fact, he's downright hysterical." As they neared the end of the hall, Fenton could hear shouting and realised with a heavy heart that it was Joe.

"Mr. Hardy, your son has a very high fever, so I'm guessing this isn't usual behaviour," the doctor continued. "But this hysteria is extremely dangerous in his current condition. I'd like you to try and calm him down; it would be better if we didn't have to sedate him."

They entered the exam room and Fenton was shocked at what he saw. Joe was kneeling upright on the hospital bed, clutching a pillow in his right hand and swinging it at any nurse or doctor who tried to get near him. The strapping on his injured shoulder had come off, but the boy seemed oblivious to that fact as he yelled at the hospital staff.

"GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Joe!" Fenton cried, hurrying towards his son. "What's wrong?"

The frightened boy caught sight of his father and scrambled off the bed. He ran straight into Fenton's arms.

"Dad! I want to go home! Please can I go home?"

"You can go home as soon as the doctors have taken a look at you," said Fenton soothingly, hugging the child as gently as he could so as not to aggravate his shoulder.

"No!" Joe cried. "I want to go home _now_! Why can't I go home now?"

"Because you're not well enough to go home," Fenton explained. "The doctors have to fix your shoulder."

"But they're hurting me!" Joe sobbed.

They're only trying to help you…"

"They're NOT!" Joe yelled pulling away from his father. "They're hurting me! Dad, please, make them stop."

Joe gazed up beseechingly at his father, and Fenton couldn't help but notice how vividly his blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to the pallor of his face. He swallowed guiltily. "Joe, I'm sorry but I can't. You need treatment."

Fenton tried to guide Joe back onto the bed but the boy pushed him away. "No! Leave me alone! I want to go home!"

"Joe, please calm down," Fenton begged, reaching for his son. But Joe smacked his hand away.

"You're trying to hurt me too!" he raved, and Fenton realised he was delirious.

"Joe, please," he tried again as the doctor appeared at his side.

"Mr. Hardy, I'm sorry but this isn't working," he told Fenton. "We're going to have to sedate him. If he keeps jerking around like this he'll do irreparable damage to that shoulder. Can you help us get him on the bed?"

Fenton nodded and approached Joe who backed away warily. "Joe, you have to get up on the bed or the doctors will force you to do it," Fenton tried one last time.

"I won't!" Joe shook his head. As Fenton and the doctor drew near him, Joe tried to dash around them but they caught him and together they lifted him onto the bed.

Joe bucked frantically. "LET ME UP!" he screamed at them.

"Nurse, hold his legs!" the doctor barked at the nurse nearest to him. "Mr. Hardy, keep him lying down."

As the doctor prepared the syringe, Joe continued to struggle with his father and another doctor had to assist Fenton in holding him down in order to prevent further injury to his shoulder.

"I want to go home!" Joe begged. "Please, Dad, I'll be good! Let me up!"

"Shhhhhh," said Fenton, a lump in his throat. "It'll be alright, just relax, Joe."

"Why are you doing this?" Joe cried at his father. "Why are you hurting me?"

Joe continued to rave as the sedative kicked in. When he was finally resting, the Doctor sent Fenton back to the waiting room where he promptly sat down in a chair, his hands over his face.

"Don't talk to me," he said hoarsely to the others. "Just let me be."

Fenton had never felt worse in his life; the betrayal on Joe's face when he had been forced to hold him down was more than he could bear. He was still sitting like that minutes later when Laura and Gertrude rushed in.

"Where's Joe? Is he alright?" Laura demanded at once.

"He's with the doctors now, but they haven't come out to see us yet," Sam answered her when it became obvious that Fenton wasn't going to.

"Why not?" Laura looked upset.

Sam chanced a glance at Fenton who was still sitting with his hands over his face. "I don't know," he admitted.

It was then Laura realised that something was wrong. "Fenton?" she said, kneeling down before her husband. "What's wrong?"

Fenton lifted his head and smiled wearily at her. "Nothing, I'm just tired," he lied, deciding it was best that Laura and Frank didn't know about what happened in the exam room. It would only upset them further.

Laura eyed her husband suspiciously before turning to look at Frank who was sitting beside his father. "Frank, honey, are you okay?" she asked softly.

Frank shook his head and Laura realised that he looked near tears. Silently she sat up beside him and put her arms around him.

The group remained waiting silently for nearly two hours, only speaking to one another to check the time. Sam and Con disappeared off to the hospital canteen and returned with sandwiches and coffee, but none of the Hardys felt much like eating.

Finally, the stern-faced doctor who had spoken to Fenton earlier returned. Fenton and Laura were on their feet and hurrying towards him before he'd even called out their names.

"How's Joe?" asked Laura.

"I'm afraid he's very ill," answered the doctor grimly. "His shoulder should heal alright with time, provided he rests and doesn't move it. However, there was a wound to his right arm that wasn't treated properly and an infection set in. Unfortunately, Joe is very weak; he's suffering from dehydration and exposure, and his body was unable to fight the infection. He's developed septicaemia."

Laura gave a sharp intake of breath and clutched her husband's arm tightly.

"What does that mean?" asked Fenton quietly.

"It means the next twenty-four hours will be critical for Joe. We've given him a strong broad-spectrum antibiotic to help fight the septicaemia, but it's going to be a difficult night. The boy is exhausted and needs natural rest to allow his body to heal, but as long as we have to keep sedating him he won't get that. I must impress on you, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, how vitally important it is that Joe remains calm when he comes around from the sedative. And that is the only reason I am allowing you in to see him tonight."

"What about me?" whispered Frank from behind his parents. "Can I see him?"

The doctor looked at him. "And you are?"

"I'm his brother, Frank."

The doctor shook his head pityingly. "I'm sorry, Frank, but your brother is very sick and he's in the ICU. I can't let you see him until we've stabilised him."

"I don't understand," said Fenton. "Joe was fine when I entered that exam room. He was talking and moving around. And he was strong," he added, remembering how hard it had been to subdue Joe. "Surely it would be okay if his brother sees him for a few minutes?"

"Mr. Hardy, have you listened to nothing I've told you?" asked the doctor in exasperation. "Your son is _very_ sick. Another day or two and he would have been beyond our help. What you saw in the exam room was the result of fever and septicaemia. If it weren't for the fact that I need to keep Joe calm, you and your wife would not be seeing him tonight either!"

Fenton nodded meekly, feeling like a chastised schoolboy. "Sorry, Doctor," he mumbled. "I understand."

"Good. Now if you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to see Joe."

As the doctor left the waiting room, Laura and Fenton turned to Frank and hugged him tightly.

"Don't worry," his mother whispered to him. "We'll tell Joe you're out here waiting to see him as soon as the doctors let you."

Frank nodded and watched with a heavy heart as his parents left the waiting room.

**XXX**

It was the longest night Frank could ever remember. His aunt had tried to persuade him to go home but he had refused point blank. No way was he leaving this hospital without knowing how his brother was. Gertrude hadn't pushed too hard, she understood how Frank felt.

Con and Sam remained in the waiting room with them, offering comfort and company. It didn't make Gertrude or Frank feel any better, but they were grateful to them nonetheless.

Finally, Gertrude dozed off in a chair, her head lolling against Con's shoulder. Con remained still in an effort not to wake the woman. Sam sat beside Frank, giving the boy's shoulder a comforting squeeze every now and again.

But Frank, lost in his thoughts, was oblivious to all this. As he played with a strand of his sweater that had frayed in the woods, the teenager's mind travelled back there. He kept hearing that horrible voice roar, "JOEEEY" and shook his head in an effort to clear it.

Frank had known the instant he heard that voice that his brother was nearby, and so began a frantic search. He had been terrified that he wouldn't find Joe until it was too late. And for one heart-stopping minute, when he had seen Joe pinned to the tree by Miles, Frank _had_ thought it was too late.

Frank gulped back the lump in his throat. What if they hadn't been on time? The thought was one that haunted him.

He glanced at his watch for the hundredth time that night. It was nearly six fifteen, and Frank hoped his parents would be back soon with news. After all, they had been upstairs nearly all night.

Wearily he closed his eyes and felt nothing until someone shook him hard. Opening his eyes, Frank found himself staring up into the tired face of Sam Radley.

"Sorry to wake you, Frank," he said gently, "but you have a few visitors."

Frank glanced behind Sam and was surprised to see Chet, Biff, Tony and Phil standing there. Mr. Morton stood behind them.

"What are you guys doing here so early?" he asked, then yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"It's not that early," Chet answered. "It's nearly nine thirty."

"It is?!" said Frank in astonishment, looking at his watch. He saw that Chet was right. "Guess I must have dropped off," he admitted.

"At least you weren't sleeping as heavily as Aunt Gertrude," Chet sniggered, with a glance at the woman.

Frank looked over at her and couldn't help but grin. The woman still had her head on Con's shoulder, and now she had her arm across his stomach as well. Con looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"I think I'd better wake her," said Frank and approached his aunt. "Aunt Gertrude," he called as he shook her. "Aunt Gertrude!"

The woman gave a small snort then opened her eyes sleepily. When she saw who her pillow was, she shot up in embarrassment. "Officer Riley! I'm so sorry! Why didn't you wake me?" Gertrude's face was crimson and Frank had to suppress a laugh. He had never seen his aunt blush before.

Behind him, the other boys had no such compunction to hide their laughter and openly sniggered at Gertrude's embarrassment. Even Sam was grinning.

"Quite alright, Miss. Hardy," said Con uncomfortably. "You were just tired."

"I know…but…oh dear!" Gertrude shook her head, flustered.

The boys laughed harder and Gertrude frowned at them. "Whatever are you boys laughing at?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here?"

Hastily they smothered their grins. "We came to see how Joe is," Biff answered.

Frank's smile faded. "We don't know," he mumbled, and wondered why his parents hadn't come back to the waiting room yet.

The thought had no sooner entered his head when Fenton Hardy entered the room. Everyone clamoured around him at once demanding to know how Joe was.

"He had a bad night," Fenton answered, his face tired. "But he's sleeping comfortably now. We won't know much until later today."

Sam studied Fenton closely. He thought his friend looked like he had aged ten years overnight. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest," Sam suggested.

Fenton shook his head. "No. I'm staying here. Although I'd appreciate it if you could take Frank and Gertrude home, it's been a long night for them."

"I'm not going home!" said Frank at once. "I'm staying here!"

"Frank," said his father. "This isn't open to discussion. You're going home to eat something and get some rest. You can come back later."

Frank opened his mouth to argue but his father held his hand up. "Please don't fight with me about this, Frank," he said wearily. "I don't have the strength."

Frank closed his mouth. He didn't want to go home, but his father didn't look well and he thought that maybe it was better he obeyed. "Fine," he said quietly, nodding his head.

"Thank you, Frank," said his father. "Don't worry, we'll ring you if there's any change."

Frank and Gertrude said their goodbyes to Fenton, then followed Con out the door. The other boys and Mr. Morton left with them. Sam turned to Fenton and spoke quietly. "You okay?"

"Never been less so in my life," Fenton responded dejectedly.

"How is he really?" asked Sam.

"Not good," Fenton admitted. "His fever is still going up. I wanted Frank out of here in case there were any…emergencies." Fenton's voice wavered a little and Sam gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

"He'll be fine, Fenton, you'll see. Joe's a fighter, he is a Hardy after all." Fenton nodded. "I'll drop Frank and Gertrude back," Sam told him. "See you later, okay? And don't worry, Joe will be fine."

"I hope you're right, Sam," Fenton whispered as his friend disappeared out the door.

**XXX**

The first thing Frank did when he arrived home was take a shower. It was only in the car on the way home that he had noticed his sweater had blood on it. The teenager didn't know whether it belonged to Joe or Miles, and he didn't want to think about it either. It was too disturbing.

In the shower, Frank stood numbly beneath the water, allowing it to wash away the stench of the woods and the hospital. Afterwards, he threw the sweater in a bin and went downstairs.

His aunt had cooked a small lunch but neither of them ate very much. Frank helped his aunt clean up and was struck by how surreal all of this felt. Here they were going on with life while Joe was clinging on to his. It didn't feel right.

Miserable, Frank tried to watch some TV to keep his mind occupied while his aunt went upstairs to take a quick nap. It wasn't long before he dozed off. He only woke at the ringing of the telephone

It was Laura to say there was no change and that the doctors still wouldn't allow Frank or Gertrude in to see Joe. Frank hung up the phone in frustration at that piece of news.

He spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, before getting up early the next morning. He was ready to go to the hospital within twenty minutes. Regardless of what anyone else said, he was going to see his brother today.

His aunt sighed when she saw him. "Frank, where are you going?"

"To the hospital," he answered shortly.

His aunt sighed again. "Frank, they're not going to let you see Joe just because you're there. He's not well enough yet."

"I don't care, I want to be there!" Frank insisted stubbornly.

He hadn't told anyone, but Frank needed to be there. His brother's reaction to him in the woods had scared him. Frank _had_ to be at the hospital to make things right as soon as Joe woke up.

His aunt must have seen a little of that urgency because she nodded her head and said, "okay, we'll both go. Give me ten minutes to get my coat and organise a cab."

"Thanks, Aunt Gertrude," said Frank, giving her a grateful hug.

Within half an hour, they were walking through the doors of Bayport General again. The first person they met was Fenton.

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise," he greeted them cheerfully. "I was just going to ring you. Joe's awake. The doctor said you can see him."

"We can?!" Frank exclaimed. "Where is he?"

"Still in the ICU," Fenton answered. "So you can't stay long. Come on, follow me."

Neither Gertrude or Frank needed to follow Fenton, they knew the way to the ICU only too well after Fenton's shooting, but they followed him nevertheless.

"Here we are," said Fenton, stopping outside a door near the nurses station in the ICU. Pushing the door open, Fenton stepped into the room, followed closely by Frank and Gertrude. "Joe, look who's here to see you," he said softly.

Laura Hardy was sitting by her son's bed holding his hand. Her face was pale and exhausted, but she was smiling happily. Frank didn't notice however, he only had eyes for Joe.

Joe still looked pale and ill, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes giving him a haunted look. His right arm was wrapped in thick bandages and his left was strapped closely to his chest. There were several dark bruises around his neck and his face was scratched and bruised. Frank couldn't help but think how fragile his brother looked.

His aunt moved past him and bent down and kissed Joe. "It's so good to have you back safe, Joe," she whispered and ruffled his hair.

Joe smiled weakly at her . "It's good to see you too," he croaked.

Frank moved towards his brother. "Am I glad to see you…" he began but Joe gave him a strange look.

"Are you?" he asked quietly.

"What? Of course I am!" said Frank, his heart sinking. "Joe, I didn't mean what I said the last day. I'm sorry, I should never have said it."

Joe didn't answer but continued to watch Frank with a strange expression on his face. Silence filled the room and Fenton glanced uneasily at his wife who looked worriedly back. Frank didn't know how to respond and stared awkwardly at his brother.

"Joe," Fenton addressed him finally. "Frank is your brother, he cares about you very much."

Joe looked from his brother to his father and back again. He wanted so badly to believe his father, but he couldn't get the image of Frank just standing there while Miles strangled him out of his head. Then another image popped into his mind; his father and another man holding him down on a bed. Joe frowned, confused. But that couldn't be true, his father wouldn't hurt him, right?

Fenton caught the confused, slightly panicky look Joe was giving him and his heart plummeted as he realised that Joe had remembered the scene in the examination room.

"Joe," he said quietly. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, but you were hurting yourself. I had to do it."

_He did do it! _Joe realised, shocked. Then another voice entered his head, a voice that sounded oddly like Miles'…_if he hurt you then he could be lying about Frank. After all, you saw it with your own two eyes, Frank let Miles hurt you! He just stood there! And he didn't try to stop the paramedics from hurting you either_…

Joe swallowed painfully, unsure what to believe. His father never lied, he had to be telling the truth about Frank. But then again, Miles had told Joe that he had left a clue with Frank to find Joe and Frank had been in the woods, so he must have known where Joe was. Why had he left him with Miles for so long?

_He didn't want you_, the evil little voice prodded. _He left you to Miles!_

"Honey, what's wrong?" asked his mother anxiously. She hadn't missed the look of fear on Joe's face.

"Nothing," Joe mumbled, closing his eyes. "I'm just tired."

"There's nothing to be afraid of," his mother told him. "Miles is locked up. You're safe now." Joe didn't answer.

"Joey, honey?" said his mother softly.

_Joeeey, _the taunting voice echoed in his ears and Joe's eyes shot open.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" he shouted, startling everyone in the room. "My name is Joe!"

"Joe, what…?" his father began but Joe cut him off.

"I'm tired. I want to go to sleep," he said, struggling not to cry.

Frank was watching his brother, and guessed that Miles had been filling his head with lies. "Joe," he said softly. "Whatever he said, it's not true. The man's a liar."

"He didn't lie about you!" Joe accused him bitterly. "He said you didn't want me and he was right!"

"No he wasn't!"

"Yes he was! You wished you didn't have a brother!"

"Joe, I didn't mean it."

"Oh, really? Then how come you went after those guys the last day even after what I said? You're were so worried about looking stupid that you didn't even care how I felt! And you let _him_ hurt me!"

Frank froze at his brother's accusation and Joe started to cry openly. His heart monitor began to beep erratically.

"Joe, honey, calm down," said his mother, moving to placate him. But Joe continued to cry, his shoulders shaking convulsively.

"Frank, I think you'd better go," said Fenton sadly.

Frank was horrified. "What? But…"

"Frank, please," his father begged quietly. "Just for now. Let me talk to Joe. You can come back when he's calmed down."

Frank glanced at his brother and saw how agitated he was becoming. Finally he nodded miserably and allowed his aunt to lead him from the room.

_**A/N: **Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews of the last chapter...I meant to put this one up last night but with work, I just didn't get a chance. Anyway, hope you like it...there's only one more chapter after this!_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Aunt Gertrude, I swear, I didn't mean it! It was stupid what I said! You have to believe me!" babbled Frank as his aunt lead him down the corridor from Joe's room.

"Shhh! I do, Frank. And I'm sure Joe does too. Don't worry, he'll come around."

"What if he doesn't?" Frank mumbled.

"He will," said Gertrude as she hugged him. "Joe's just confused. He's been through a lot."

Frank didn't answer. He wasn't so sure. Joe looked like he really believed that Frank didn't care. _And he thinks I let him get hurt_, thought Frank miserably.

"Let's get something to eat," his aunt suggested.

They sat in the hospital canteen for nearly an hour. Gertrude made several attempts to cheer Frank up but the teenager remained despondent. Finally Fenton joined them.

"Did you talk to him?" asked Frank hopefully, jumping to his feet. "Does he know I didn't mean it?"

Fenton shook his head, wincing at the disappointment that crossed Frank's face. "Frank, Joe's just a little confused right now. Don't worry, he'll come around."

"That's what Aunt Gertrude said," Frank muttered.

Fenton exchanged a quick glance with his sister. "Then listen to her. She knows what she's talking about," he said, trying to sound cheerful. Frank merely scowled.

Fenton sighed. "Come on, I have something to do. Laura gave me the car keys so I can drive you two home on the way."

"We're leaving already?" said Frank, aghast. "But…what about Joe? Don't we get to say goodbye?"

Fenton shook his head. "Frank, he's still pretty sick and it's not good for him to get upset like that," he said gently. "Let him rest and we can see how things are in the morning."

Frank bit his lip and nodded.

The car was quiet as Fenton drove back to Elm street. Frank stared dejectedly out of the back window. Fenton and Gertrude sat in front, neither knowing what to say to cheer him up.

"I'll be home later," Fenton told them as he dropped them off.

Frank didn't answer but headed straight for the house instead. Fenton watched him go, concern etched on his face.

"Don't worry, Fenton," Gertrude said. "It will all work out. You just be careful with whatever you're doing, you're not even supposed to be driving yet."

Fenton couldn't help but grin as he drove off. He had wondered how long it would be before his sister commented on that, and thought she had been remarkably restrained in waiting until now.

_Probably didn't want to upset Frank further_, he realised, his smile fading. Fenton gritted his teeth and griped the steering wheel hard. _Give me five minutes alone in a room with Miles Denton! Five minutes, that's all I ask_…

The man had literally pulled the strings of his family apart and Fenton wondered if he would be able to pull those threads together again. _I can try_, he thought wearily.

As he pulled into the parking lot of Bayport Police Station, Fenton suddenly felt saddened by what had become of John's family. He wondered if John had lived, would Miles have turned out as he did?

_I guess we'll never know_, he thought, shaking his head.

Fenton entered the station and was greeted by Con Riley. "Fenton! What are you doing here?" The officer looked exhausted and he had his coat on. Fenton guessed he was heading home.

"Unfinished business," said Fenton quietly.

Con shuffled uncomfortably. "I think you'd better have a talk with Chief Collig," he said simply.

Confused, Fenton followed him to the office of the Chief of Police. Con knocked on the door and a gruff voice answered, "come in."

Con pushed open the door and Fenton followed him in. Closing the door, Fenton was surprised to see that Chief Collig didn't look happy to see him.

"Fenton, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

"You know why I'm here, Ezra," said Fenton quietly. "I want a word with Denton."

Chief Collig and Con exchanged a worried look, then the chief turned to Fenton and sighed. "I'm sorry, Fenton, he's not here."

"He's not?!" Fenton was shocked. "Surely he hasn't been transferred to the state pen already?"

The chief didn't look at him "He hasn't."

"Then…where is he?" Fenton asked, an uneasy feeling working its way through his stomach.

"He was transferred to a high-security psychiatric facility in New York this morning," Con answered quietly.

"WHAT!" Fenton roared. "He's been _released_?! After what he did!"

"He's still locked up, Fenton," Chief Collig tried to appease the man. "He's in a maximum security wing and he'll stay there for a long time."

"How could you let this happen?" Fenton was seething. "After what he did to Joe?"

A look of annoyance crossed the police chief's face. "I did not _let_ this happen, Fenton, I had no choice! Hurd Johnson showed up with a Court Order this morning demanding the immediate release of Denton into the care of one Dr. Davis at the Ryder Hospital in New York."

"Just like that? Without Denton even going before a Judge?" Fenton raged. "Most people have to be _declared_ insane before someone can do that!"

"But that's just it, Fenton," said Con quietly. "Denton was declared insane nearly ten years ago. He was just never considered a threat to anyone until now, and that's how Johnson got the order issued."

"Bastard!" Fenton muttered angrily. "I thought he wanted to help us."

"Maybe he is…" Con began but Fenton, outraged, cut him off.

"_How is this helping_?" he spat.

"Joe won't have to testify against Denton now," Con replied quietly. "Can you imagine how hard that would have been on him?"

"Can you imagine how hard it's going to be on him when I tell him the man who tormented him for seven days won't be going to prison?" said Fenton bitterly.

"He'll still be locked up," Chief Collig pointed out. "He might not even have been _found _guilty if this had gone to court…."

Fenton stared at the Police Chief disbelievingly and the man sighed heavily. "I know, Fenton, I know. He would almost certainly have been found guilty, but what can I do? It's out of my hands." The man rubbed his head wearily. "Denton will probably be locked away for a very long time this way. If he went to Prison, he might have gotten out in just a few years."

Fenton shook his head. "It's not enough," he said quietly.

The Police Chief surveyed him sadly. "I know, but it's all we've got."

**XXX**

The next morning, Frank, his father and his aunt returned to the hospital. Laura had rang to say that Joe was a little stronger and might even be transferred out of the ICU in a day or two. Gertrude and Frank had been delighted at the news, but Frank noticed that his father hadn't greeted it with much enthusiasm.

Frank frowned as they walked up to the ICU. His father had been very subdued ever since he had returned home the previous evening. Frank didn't know where he had gone, but suspected it was something to do with Denton.

The teenager sighed. He had tried to ask questions without arousing his father's suspicions, but Fenton hadn't been very forthcoming with answers of any sort to his eldest son.

Frank felt apprehension rise as they neared Joe's room. How would his brother react to him today? Would he be forced to leave the room in shame once more? He glanced at his father and aunt as they stopped outside the door, and could see that they were just as tense as he was.

Squeezing Frank's shoulder reassuringly, Fenton opened the door. "Morning," he greeted his wife quietly. "Joe, how are you feeling?"

Joe shrugged indifferently, then winced in pain. He had forgotten he wasn't supposed to move his shoulder.

Fenton glanced at his wife who bit her lip and shook her head. Fenton watched as Gertrude leaned in and kissed Joe. "Morning, Joe," she said.

"Hi," he greeted her listlessly.

Frank had remained by the door. He looked to his father who nodded encouragingly.

"Hi, Joe," he said nervously, stepping nearer to the bed. Joe pretended not to hear him and Frank looked at his father for help.

"Joe, aren't you going to say 'hello' to Frank?" Fenton asked gently. Joe merely looked at his father. "Joe?" he prodded.

"Can I have a drink of water, please?" Joe asked his mother quietly.

"Sure, honey," she responded, reaching for the cup on the bedside table. Joe sat up a little as she held the straw to his lips and took a sip then lay back against the pillows once more.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Would you like to do something nice when you get out of hospital?" Fenton asked. Joe nodded. "What would you like to do?" Fenton tried again.

"Dunno," Joe mumbled and Fenton frowned, not liking this apathetic behaviour from his usually energetic son.

"We could go away for a few days, just the four of us," Fenton suggested. "Would you like that?" Joe didn't respond.

"Joe, what's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," the blond boy mumbled.

Fenton and his wife exchanged a look. Joe saw them do it, and before they could ask anymore questions, he spoke up. "I'm tired. Would you guys mind if I went to sleep?"

"Sure, Joe," his father replied. "Just get some rest. We can come back later."

Joe nodded as each of them said good bye to him. When it came to Frank's turn, Joe acted as if he wasn't there.

"I'm going to go home to take a quick shower, sweetie," his mother told him as she kissed him. "I'll be back later, and your dad will be here if you need him."

"Thanks, Mom," Joe mumbled, closing his eyes. He kept them closed until he was sure all of his family had left the room, only then did the boy open them.

Joe stared despondently at the ceiling. He knew he wasn't behaving very well but he couldn't help it. He wished that Frank would stay at home; he didn't want his brother there. It hurt too much. The fact that Frank didn't want him around hurt worse than anything Miles had done. Joe didn't care what his parents said; they hadn't seen Frank stand back and watch while Miles yanked his arm from its socket! They hadn't heard him tell Joe he wished he didn't have a brother anymore!

Joe felt tears prick his eyes. His memories of what had happened after Miles had started to strangle him were hazy, but he was positive he had seen Frank just stand there and watch that too. He was even more sure that Frank hadn't tried to stop the paramedics when they had popped his shoulder back into place.

_There was a time he would have yelled at them for that, _Joe thought miserably.

Sighing, he shifted in the bed trying to get comfortable then gave a little groan of pain. He couldn't lie on his left side because of his shoulder and he couldn't lie on his right side because of his arm. Joe was getting pretty sick of trying to sleep on his back.

_Wonder when I can go home_, he sighed to himself. He was terribly homesick, it felt like an eternity since he had been home and he just couldn't sleep in the hospital. There were constantly nurses and doctors coming in to check on him during the night which woke him up. And every time it happened, for a split second, he was back in that cell with Miles. It made him too nervous to go to sleep.

But going back home meant dealing with Frank, and Joe didn't know how to handle that either. Hurt anger welled up in him at the thought of his brother, and the tears that had been threatening to fall began to flow freely. Joe tried to burrow his face in his pillow to stifle his sobs.

**XXX**

"Has he been like that all night?" Fenton asked Laura as they walked down the corridor.

His wife shook her head. "No, only since I said you were coming back to visit him," she whispered.

_You mean because Frank was coming back, _Fenton thought and clenched his fists. What the hell had Denton done to turn Joe against his brother like this?

Fenton glanced at the teenager. He was shuffling down the hall beside his aunt looking like he had just lost his best friend. _And for all he knows, he probably has! _Fenton realised. _We need to sort this out!_

"Mom, Dad," said Frank suddenly. "I need some air." Without waiting for an answer, the teenager took off down the hall. Ignoring the startled looks of some of the patients and the disapproving ones of the nurses, Frank tore out the front door of the hospital and headed for the park across the road.

It was a bitterly cold morning, and there were only a few hardy souls around, so Frank felt relatively unselfconscious at kicking the living daylights out of the nearest tree. Not expecting anyone, he was shocked when a soft voice said, "Frank?"

Frank spun around and his mouth dropped open when he saw who was standing there. Looking very pretty and holding a large bouquet of flowers was Annie!

"Annie?" he gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you actually," she said quietly. "I heard on the news last night that they found your brother and he was in the hospital so I brought these flowers for him."

"They're very nice," Frank mumbled, unable to look at her. _This was Mrs. Deagan's _

_granddaughter!_

"Actually," she continued, "I was hoping to talk to you as well, but as I was walking up to the hospital I saw you come tearing out like a madman and followed you here instead. Are you okay?"

Frank felt numb with shock. Didn't she know who he was?

Annie seemed to guess a little of what he was thinking. "Frank," she said quietly. "I know you were there the day Gran was attacked."

Frank looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "I also know you didn't do it," she continued softly, "and that you were forced to leave by bigger boys."

Frank glanced at her, not knowing what to say.

"The police said you were the one who came forward." Annie stared at him questioningly and Frank made a movement between a shrug and a nod. Annie sighed. "I won't pretend I wasn't angry at first…I was," she said. "But then I remembered that day in the hospital. You struck me as the kind of person who blames himself for everything, even when it isn't your fault. I guessed that what happened with Gran was probably eating you up."

Frank found his voice. "Annie, I'm really sorry about your grandmother. If I could have stopped it from happening…"

"You would have, I know. Don't worry, Frank, I'm not angry anymore. Life's too short for anger." They stared at each other for a long time. Finally Annie spoke again. "How's your brother?"

"He thinks I hate him," Frank confessed, and told Annie everything that had happened.

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Annie.

"I don't know," Frank responded gloomily. "Joe won't even listen to me."

"Then don't talk to him, show him you care."

Frank blinked. "How?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Annie smiled. "Just make sure he knows you're doing it for him."

An idea struck him and Frank's face broke into a huge grin. "Annie, you're a genius! I know what to do!"

"See?" she smiled. "I knew you'd work it out."

Frank's smile faded as he stared at her. "Annie, thank you," he said quietly. "That's the second time you've helped me."

Annie's smile widened. "Don't mention it. Here," she added, handing him the flowers. "Give these to your brother." Then, without warning, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Frank turned crimson.

"Good luck, Frank," Annie smiled once more and then she was gone, leaving the teenager rooted to the spot.

_I don't believe it, she kissed me! _he thought, trying to stop the goofy smile spreading across his face. _She KISSED me! _Frank nearly did a little dance, but stopped himself on time. _Get a grip, Hardy! _he scolded himself. _You have work to do!_

As the teenager made his way out of the park and back to the hospital, his mind was full of plans. _First things first, _he thought. _Got to find a phone!_

**XXX**

"Let me get this straight, Frank," said Sam Radley, as they stood outside the hospital. "You want me to _flirt_ with the nurse?"

Frank nodded eagerly.

"No way, absolutely not! Ethel would kill me!" Sam declared, crossing his arms.

"Please, Sam?" Frank begged. "It's for a good cause!"

Sam stared at the teenager in his colourful regalia. "Frank, this is insane! You're going to get thrown out of the ICU!"

"Not if I don't get caught! Will you help me?"

"Please, Sam?" Chet chimed in.

"Oh-My-God!" Sam rubbed his temples. "Do you hear yourselves?! Guys, this isn't going to work! You won't even make it to the first floor!"

"We will if you help us," Frank told him. "Sam, I can't do this without your help!"

"Come on, Sam, please?" Biff added his own pleading to the mix while Phil - who for some inexplicable reason was holding a bouquet of flowers - stared at him beseechingly.

Sam groaned. It was bad enough that Frank was trying to guilt him into doing something he didn't want to do, without all the other munchkins he had enlisted to help him concoct this crazy scheme joining in.

"Please?" said Frank. "For Joe?"

Sam snapped. "Fine! But this is emotional blackmail and you know it!"

Alright!" Frank crowed while the other boys cheered. Sam shook his head despairingly.

_Fenton is going to kill me! _he moaned silently.

"Frank! Frank! I got them! I got the balloons!" a voice yelled and Sam's mouth dropped as a huge cloud of helium balloons with a pair of legs beneath them came running towards them.

"Excellent! Thanks, Tony!" said Frank as the cloud drew level with them.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Sam's voice rose to a near shriek. "Frank, it was going to be bad enough trying to get you upstairs, but this?!! Nu-uh! No way!"

Frank's face fell. "Come on, Sam, you said you'd help!"

"Frank, don't you see how crazy this is? How am I supposed to help you get _that_ in the door of the hospital much less up to the third floor?" Sam gesticulated wildly towards the balloons.

"It's okay, I've got a plan," Frank told him confidently.

"You've got…" Sam put his fingers over his eyes. "You've got a plan?"

"Yeah. You're going to tell them it's for the children's ward," Frank said simply.

_I'm gonna be arrested, _Sam groaned as they walked towards the front door.

Five minutes later, the strange little group was moving towards the elevator.

_I don't believe that worked! _Sam thought, flabbergasted. The security guard had waved them on when he had said the balloons were for the children's ward. _Actually, that's kind of worrying_, Sam reflected, shaking his head.

As they made their way down the corridor, Frank and the boys were too excited to notice the strange looks they were getting, but Sam was painfully aware of them. He kept his head down until they were in the elevator.

"See, Sam?" said Frank. "Told you it would work!"

"We still have to get into the ICU," Sam reminded him.

"We will," said Frank, his excitement growing.

The elevator doors opened and they crept towards the doors that led to the ICU. Chet peered in through the glass panels. "Uh-oh! Frank, there's two nurses at the nurses station."

"So?" said Frank, taking the balloons from Tony. "Sam can handle them."

"I…what?" Sam spluttered. "Two? Frank, this is getting ridiculous."

"But we're so close!" Frank pleaded with him. "Sam, please!"

Sam sighed. "Fine, fine. Just wait until I get them to look the other way before trying to sneak in. And Frank?" The teenager looked at him. "Try not to get caught."

"I won't," Frank grinned and his painted face contorted strangely. "Thanks, Sam. I owe you."

"You bet you do," Sam muttered, as he entered the ICU and set off towards the nurses station. "You owe me big time, Frank Hardy!"

Chet watched Sam's progress down the hall. "He's nearly there," he whispered.

"Okay," said Frank. "Tony, quick! Go down to the elevator and delay anyone that gets off it for a few minutes until I get into Joe's room." Tony nodded and shot off.

"Phil," Frank addressed the other boy. "You do the same with the stairs."

"Sure thing," Phil replied and headed over to the stairs.

Frank turned to Biff. "Biff, anyone comes down this corridor or gets past Tony and Phil before we're in, delay them! Pretend to be lost, upset, _anything_! Just delay them!"

"You can count on me, Frank," said Biff, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"Frank!" Chet hissed. "The nurses are looking at Sam! Now's our chance!"

Quietly, Frank and Chet opened the doors to the ICU and eased in the balloons as silently as they could.

As Frank made his way down the hall, he could see that Sam was standing at the other side of the desk keeping the nurses attention on him and away from the door to the ICU and Joe's room. They reached Joe's room and as Chet gently turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, Sam laughed loudly to cover the noise.

Frank fired the balloons into the room, making sure to hold onto one balloon as he entered also.

"Good luck!" Chet hissed.

Frank heard the door close behind him and swallowed nervously as he stared around the balloon-filled room. His aunt was sitting in a chair, her hand to her throat, gasping with shock. His father had jumped to his feet and was standing defensively in front of the bed. Laura and Joe were staring at Frank, their eyes wide and their mouths open.

"Hi, guys!" Frank waved.

"Frank?" his mother gasped incredulously. She hadn't recognised him. None of them had. Frank was wearing a canary-yellow, baggy trousers with a red stripe down either side and a bright red coat with tails. It's pockets were bulging with tricks his friends had helped him pull together. His purple shirt clashed horribly with the blue tie that lit up and sang, but that was nothing to the wig Frank had put on; a spiky green Mohawk complete with bright pink ribbons. Frank had painted his face like a clown and wore colossal clown shoes to complete the effect.

He looked utterly ridiculous, and Fenton couldn't repress a snort when he realised the crazy vision in front of him was his usually serious eldest son. Even Gertrude's mouth was twitching.

Without further ado, Frank began his act. Withdrawing four tennis balls from his pocket, he began to juggle. After twenty seconds, Frank began to drop the balls, being careful to hit himself on the foot or head as he did so. He then removed a small trumpet from his pocket and began to toot tunelessly while performing the most uncoordinated dancing he could think of. While he was dancing, Frank slipped on one of the tennis balls he had dropped and landed hard on his backside, setting off the whoopee cushion in his back pocket. His family howled with laughter as he scrambled to his feet.

Feigning annoyance, Frank tutted and removed a clear plastic cup from his pocket. The cup looked like it was filled with liquid, but Frank knew the liquid was actually trapped between the double sides of the cup which could only be released by pressing a small button. Wiping his forehead and pretending he was thirsty, Frank tried to take a drink from the cup. Pretending to be puzzled when he couldn't taste anything, Frank closed one eye and squinted into the cup. With a shrug of his shoulders, Frank tried to drink again but nothing came out and in pretended annoyance, he turned the cup upside and shook it. Scratching his head, Frank held the cup high in the air and pretended to peer into it. As he did so, he pressed the little button and water whooshed out over his face soaking him. His father snorted with laughter and his mother giggled furiously as Frank groped for a handkerchief to wipe his face. As he wiped his face, Frank chanced a peek at Joe.

His heart soared. Joe was laughing! He was actually laughing!

Frank continued with his act, each trick becoming more ridiculous until finally he reached the end of his performance. Opening the balloon he had kept for himself, Frank took in a huge gulp of air then struck a dignified pose. He started to sing and his family erupted with laughter. Frank wanted to laugh himself when he heard how ridiculous his helium-filled voice sounded, but the teenager continued to sing until he had finished his song.

When he was done, Frank took a large elaborate bow, being sure to trip over his clown feet as he did so. His family applauded and cheered as Frank straightened up.

"Hooray for the best clown in Bayport!" his mother called, her eyes twinkling and Frank grinned at her. Then he looked at Joe.

"See, Joe?" he said quietly. "I don't care about looking stupid."

"I think we need a coffee," said Laura at once. "Come on, Fenton, Gertrude."

The adults left quickly, leaving Frank and Joe alone.

Frank moved over and sat down beside his brother. "Joe," he said quietly. "I don't know what Denton said to you, but whatever it was, it's not true! You're my brother and you're more important to me than _anyone_. I lost my temper that last day, and I should never have said I wished I didn't have a brother. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"Then why did you let him hurt me?" said Joe miserably. "You just stood there, doing nothing."

"I _couldn't_ do anything! He would have shot you the second I took one step towards you."

Joe looked confused. "Shot me?"

"Yes! Joe, didn't you see the gun?"

Joe shook his head and understanding flooded Frank. "Joe," he said urgently. "Denton had a gun and he was pointing it at your head. I was too afraid to move in case he shot you. It was bad enough that he already did _that_ while I watched." Frank gestured towards Joe's shoulder. Joe stared at his brother. "Joe, don't you remember me tackling Denton?" asked Frank quietly.

Joe closed his eyes and a vague memory of Frank howling in anger and flinging himself at Miles flashed through his head. He opened his eyes. "So, you didn't leave me to Miles because you didn't want me?" he asked nervously.

"NO!" cried Frank vehemently. "We didn't even know who had you until three days ago! And as soon as I did, I went straight out and found you!" Joe still looked unsure, so Frank added, "you were missing for a whole week and it was the longest, most horrible week of my life! I really missed you and I was so afraid I'd never see you again."

"I was afraid I'd never see you guys again too," Joe whispered, and his bottom lip trembled a little.

"He's locked up now," said Frank quietly. "He can't hurt you anymore." Joe nodded, but Frank noticed his eyes were suspiciously bright. Instinctively he reached over and hugged his brother tightly. "It's good to have you back, Joe," he whispered, feeling relief wash over him.

Several minutes passed before Frank let go of his brother. When he did, he noticed Joe wiping his eyes. "You okay?" he asked.

Joe nodded and gave a shaky smile. "Yeah," he mumbled. Then he looked at Frank and grinned. "You know, you look like a complete idiot dressed like that!"

Frank smacked his head. "And here's me thinking I looked like James Bond!"

The room rang with their laughter and Fenton, who had remained outside the door to make sure that no-one disturbed them, smiled. The broken threads of his family were already beginning to sew themselves back together.

**XXX**

Nearly two months later, the Hardy home was filled with noise and laughter.

It was Joe's twelfth birthday, and Fenton and Laura had thrown a huge party to celebrate the occasion.

Fenton had been unsure about the idea but Frank and Laura had persuaded him, insisting it would be good for Joe. Fenton was glad he had listened when he saw Joe laughing and joking with the other kids. He had even cheerfully suggested that Frank give a repeat of his performance in the hospital room, to which Frank had blushed and mumbled something inaudible. Fenton knew Joe was on the road to recovery when he heard him teasing his brother like that. It had taken time, but he was getting there.

Fenton frowned a little as he thought of how hard the past two months had been. With the exception of Joe's shoulder, the physical scars had healed. The mental ones were taking a little longer, and Fenton knew that much of it was because Denton had not been sent to prison. Joe had been crushed to learn that his kidnapper wasn't going to prison. After all, he was still a child and the concept of Multiple Personality Disorder meant nothing to him. The way Joe saw it, Denton wasn't being punished for what he had done to him and the boy was finding it difficult to deal with.

Fenton understood how he was feeling. It had been a blow to the detective to discover that the legal system he had always believed in so strongly, had failed him when it mattered most. He had tried to get Hurd Johnson's Court Order overturned but with no luck. The Judge had insisted that Denton was legally insane, therefore he couldn't be tried as a capable adult.

Fenton scowled. He'd like to show that Judge the young boy who refused to sleep with his door closed or the light off, and often woke up screaming anyway.

"Stop scowling!" he heard a voice beside him and glanced down to see his wife standing there. Laura Hardy smiled at her husband. "There's a lot of children here today, do you want to scare them off with that face of yours?"

Fenton laughed. "Fine! I'll be Mary Poppins for the rest of the day! Sound good?"

"Perfect!" his wife agreed and they both laughed.

"Mom?" Frank appeared beside them. "I think Joe wants to know when he can open his presents."

"Oh, he does, does he?" said Laura cheerfully, then headed into the living room calling, "okay everyone, Joe is going to open his presents now and we can eat then."

Frank and his father grinned at one another as cheers rose in the living room.

"Want to watch?" said Fenton.

"Wouldn't miss it," Frank replied.

They moved into the living room and positioned themselves so they could watch Joe opening his presents. Frank couldn't wait to see Joe's reaction to what he had got him; a brand new play station. He'd had to save every cent of his allowance, as well as doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood to earn extra money, but Frank knew it would be worth it when Joe saw the computer.

The last two months had been tough. It hadn't been easy to watch his brother dealing with the aftermath of his kidnapping, especially since Denton was going to get away with it.

Frank bit his lip. He was having trouble dealing with that himself. The teenager didn't care whether Denton was sick or not. As far as he was concerned, the man should have been strung up for what he did.

Then there was the fact that Frank had had to do twenty hours community service for what had happened with Mrs. Deagan. Keith had had to do forty. Unsurprisingly, Ryan had been sent to a detention centre for young offenders for two years.

Despite not actually hitting Mrs. Deagan, Paul had been given eighty hours community service because he was the one who had been instrumental in covering up the attack.

The hardest of all had been Annie's death. She had died just two weeks earlier and Frank had received a letter from her after her death. Apparently, Annie had written letters to her friends with instructions that they were to be mailed after her death. Frank was touched to discover that she had counted him amongst her friends.

Her letter had reminded Frank to get out and grab life, and told him to cherish the people he cared about. Not that Frank needed the reminder; he had learned in the most brutal way possible to never take for granted the people he cared about.

The day after he received her letter, Frank had gone to the cemetery to say his goodbyes to Annie, and had placed a single white rose on her grave with a note that simply said; _my guardian angel_. The teenager wouldn't soon forget how she had helped him when he had needed it most.

He was dragged out of his thoughts as several loud gasps and cheers erupted around him. Joe had opened his present from Frank.

"Oh wow! Frank! Thanks!" he gasped, his eyes wide as he ran his hand over the play station box. "This is so cool!"

"You're welcome," Frank smiled, pleased, while Joe stared reverently at the Play Station. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his parents shooting him looks that he knew meant he was in for a lecture later about spending so much but he didn't care. It was worth it to see Joe so happy.

Joe was now ripping the wrapping paper off another large box and Frank marvelled at how quickly he could do it with only his right hand; his left was still strapped tightly to his chest. "Awesome!" Joe said as he pulled out a pair of ice-hockey skates. "These are excellent!" From his vantage point, Frank could see that the skates were of excellent quality and probably rather expensive.

_Wonder who sent those? _he thought.

Joe was obviously thinking the same thing. He was rooting around in the wrapping paper for a card.

"They're from me!" a small voice piped up and Frank was surprised to see Chet's pretty little sister grinning at Joe.

He was even more surprised when Joe went purple right to the tips of his ears and mumbled, "thanks, Iola. These are great!"

As Iola smiled and Joe continued to blush, realisation crashed over Frank. _I don't believe it! _he crowed gleefully. _Joe has a crush!_

He couldn't wait to get his brother alone and tease him about it. After all, it was part of his duty as a big brother.

_**A/N:** Okay, that was it, the final chapter! Hope you all liked it and enjoyed the story. I know I've enjoyed reading your reviews! ;-) But please let me know what you think of this final chapter too!_

**Paperdaisies:** Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews. And I'm really glad you liked how I wrote the action and psychological angst. It's what I enjoy writing most!

**Whashaza:** Thanks. I really appreciate you taking the time to review, and I'm delighted you like how I write. It's one of the biggest buzzes as an author to be told that!

**Shee1:** Hee hee! glad you got two chapters in a row...there's nothing worse than waiting, is there? ;-) And I'd better warn you that although I am working on another Hardy Boys story, it's not finished and I usually don't post them until I'm finished. And I'm afraid this one might take a while because I'm also working on a CSI fic that's just begging to be written and that one seems to be taking up most of my time! Hopefully I'll have the HB one finished in a month or two.

**astalder27**: Thanks for all the great reviews; feedback is addictive. Hope this final chapter satisfies you and you enjoy it as much as the others!

**penguinlover**: Well, you got your happy ending, I hope it's to your liking:-) Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, it means alot that you always took the time to review.

**epalladino**: Beth, thanks for all the great reviews! Hope you liked the final chapter and enjoy the next story as much!

**DawnStrider:** And it's all finished! Thanks for all the reviews, I hope you enjoyed the final chapter as well as the others!

**The Silent Rumble: **Thanks again for all the great reviews! Now, I know you're a Frank angst fan and probably prefer stories where it's Frank in danger so I think you deserve to know a little secret; I do have a Frank angst story in the pipeline! It's not the next one (which will probably be quite short), but the story after that. Hope you're still around to read it!

_Also to **CA** and **Mariethorne** who both reviewed alot but had no questions for a while; thanks guys, for taking the time to review. It's always nice to know your work is appreciated!_


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